When I die,
I want to fall in my bed exhausted,
covered in scars,
stories buzzing in my head,
of memories and inside jokes,
from a lifetime of misadventure.
My broken bones barely healed,
my weathered skin and matted hair,
A body running on fumes.
And I will lay there,a room full of grand children,
minds alive with curiosity,
for a world waiting to be explored.
And a beautiful wife, with soft hands in mine,
smiling because she knows me best,
and then she would look at me,
and see the stories sparkling in my eyes,
and she would squeeze my hand, as I left,
on one last adventure.
– a t t i c u s