Like Everyone Else

 Like everyone else

I’m growing old.

Dying.

 

Guess I’ll just have to work

a little faster

to finish whatever it was

I was doing,

or thought

I was doing,

or thought I

wanted to do,

or meant to do,

or whatever it was I thought

I wanted to do

or meant to do

before it really is,

too late.

Too late

to do anything

except bring

the opening line

of this poem

to fruition.