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Writer's pictureRussell Jacklin

The old man in the next bed,



It's coming, I know it,

My final hours of life,

I have regrets

But I have no more strife,

My past stretched behind me

There is nothing ahead,

I'll be relieved when the time comes.

When I'm finally dead.


When that moment arrives

When finally I'm gone,

They'll say of me

His pitiful life, done,

He lived, he loved, he laughed,

Somewhat reluctantly.

Grasped at life's abundant pleasures

Fairly infrequently


When I am laid to rest

My eulogy is read

Forget me then,

Live your own life instead

Walk tall, forward to your future,

Don't give your past a backward glance,

Bask in the warmth of each moment,

Life affords you no second chance.




The old man in the next bed is now dead,

Nothing more about him needs to be said.


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