First to Go, Last to Leave

we don’t write poems
about death
when we’re young

death lies anchored
just beyond our horizon
so why bother
there is much sailing to do

there is plenty of time
to write poems about death
when we’re old

as we realize 
time now holds 
a different purpose

we begin each day 
when we want
how we want

yet always tired from long nights
trying to understand messages
from restless visitations

we reflect with friends
on the adventures 
that brought us here

we look at each other 
silently judging our decline by
comparing skin tone and hair gone silver

we share notes
on doctors and procedures
ailments and medications

we exchange 
our love and gratitude
for healing

we wonder in silence 
who will be the first to go
and the last to leave

we notice all things 
great and small within our reach
that we missed

we appreciate how the light 
seems brilliantly different now
and clouds shape the day

as we turn our gaze
just past the horizon
and remind ourselves

there is still much sailing to do

Ken Owen August 2025 Van Niddy Press