Author, Computer Scientist, Musician, and Photographer
When the flick is finished,
In the cinema of existence,
The stink of stale popcorn and dusty films,
She blinks through silver screen tears,
Seeing her life in a motion picture,
Hearing the silence of her critics,
Applauding the end credits,
She is one heck of an actress.
We will twinkle when we are in our twilight years,
Just imagine all the things we shall see and hear,
Wrapped in a celestial quilt I’ll hold you near,
And whisper in your ear, “You look dazzling, my dear.”
We will be as colorful as our sunset years,
We still keep all of the laughter and in good cheer,
When the darkest hours upon us there is not fear,
Even the reaper will cry for us twilit tears.
In a festive room is a grandmother clock, which no longer ticks. Sadly, her mechanisms couldn’t be fixed anymore. We had such good times with her, never thinking about how one day they could end. We wanted to believe they were everlasting. It was easy to disillusion ourselves since her hands tirelessly revolved around a continuous circle. This circle was so much more than just etched numbers, but memories minted by family and friends that will no longer be touched by this loving woman’s hands. Although her ticker may have stopped, we can still carry pieces of her in our own timepieces. They can be put back together again someday when we meet our clockmaker, who goes by Father Time.
