what now?

 
 
 
no longer young  
 
but no yet old enough  
to be buried  
 
...somewhere  
in-between  
 
so when those long,
slow days come for
me where there is no
magic left  
 
and a bed will be my
last home
 
where all the walls
are silent with the
memories of grief
 
come to me
 
sit by my bed side
 
and read softly to
me from
Fante's
 
Ask The
Dust
 
as I close my
eyes in
wonder