ISN´T IT SAD?

She took her son´s hand, upon her dying bed,

She looked into his eyes & sighing, she said,

I don´t mind the dying, of that I´ve no fear,

So listen to your mother & dry that old tear.

 

It´s leaving the world with so much still undone,

All those books unread & those songs still unsung,

Countries unvisited & all those men left unloved,

Divine outfits un-worn, un-hatted & un-gloved.

 

It´s the wine not yet drunk & the kisses un-kissed,

Isn´t it sad, leaving these things that I´ve missed?

He said, “But think of all the things you have done,

Things, others who lie dying, have now left undone”.