An Open Heart

 

I am recovering from open heart surgery,

not the man I used to be but age wears me on.

I was told I could live happily for several years more,

this optimism reverberates through my mortal frame.

It gives me hope and spurs me on,

but a voice whispers that caution is prescribed.

This advice haunts my every day,

as I adjust to each day being my last.

I eat healthy food in modest amounts,

yet would love a large glass of port and my pipe.

Tantalized and seduced by prohibited food,

I live on the edge of anxiety and fear.

Consolation is present as I feel so well,

but a sudden cough, a stabbing pain causes momentary panic.

I am resolved to live each day as if my last,

not dwelling on the future with troubled hope.

I am no different to others as all our lives are tenuous,

we know not the hour or the day.

But I am not prepared to precipitate that day,

Caution and prudence now coexist with optimism and fate.

Perhaps the occasional glass of port,

with my old briar and some aromatic tobacco will not hurt.

Only occasionally of course, to help me relax,

to enjoy the memories that are now in the past.