When I am too old for life

And life has taken all I have 

When my breath is but a shallow whisper 

And the whisper turns a winter's breeze 

When my heart quivers its last offering to time

And time graciously accepts

When my eyes forever slumber

And slumber takes my soul

 

I think that I shall linger still 

In the periphery of twilight's yawning

 

And in smiles, strangely familiar

 

In the contagion of distant laughter

 

And nostalgic aromas thought fleeting 

 

In the upside down smile of a rainbow 

 

And the warm hug of a summer breeze

 

And, 

in these words written, 

and so quietly read;

For when the essence of life still lingers

Are we ever truly dead?

 

Painting by Charles Spencelayh 1926