When will it be that it’s my time to go?

I see all the signs in the air.

Must I wait through storms til there’s nothing but snow,

or is there a milder path there?

When I was young, I never spent time

nor took any thought just to sit by and think.

I guess there was no need when weather was fine,

but seasons have passed in a blink.

But somehow there’s comfort here watching leaves fall,

though they be the last on the tree.

For I had the chance to experience it all.

May winter’s snow soon set me free.