Friday, August 22, 2025

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
that we missed and vow

never to miss them again


we appreciate how the daylight 
shines brilliantly 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

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