It's been a while since I've been younger, and the days are getting shorter. Your eyes will be the last thing that my eyes will see. Sigh into solace, I want you to know this. Now I think about it every day, how the roots take the branches and the branches take the leaves. It's been hard not to say that soon you'll find me still and silent, cold and empty. It's been a while since I've been younger, and the days are getting shorter. Your eyes will be the last thing that my eyes will see. Saw the rain, heard my own eulogy, cut out a newspaper clip of a younger me with a one-by-one-inch photograph for memory. And I'll think of you as I let it take me. And I'll remember you even if death gets the better of me. And I'll have no regrets except that you're staying, and I'm leaving. It's been a while since I've been younger, and the days are getting shorter. Your eyes will be the last thing that my eyes will see. Sigh into solace, I want you to know this.
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