When the day comes

Life is good
I can breathe calmly and deeply
I can sleep peacefully
I can chase you, embrace you
See your beauty, enjoy your company
I can laugh and smile and understand
I can create and sing and write and dance
Like I have so many times before
And will again so many times more.

But when the day comes
That my voice is faded and frail
And does not soothe with its sound . . .
Then I will paint happiness
And give life to lifelessness
And my purpose will continue on.

But when the day comes
That my hands can’t reach out
Because they are stiff and weak . . .
Then I will see all that is beautiful
And listen to your musical
And value all that is around me.

But when the day comes
That my hearing is feeble
And my eyes are tired and sore . . .
I will look deep inside myself
And won’t need anything else
Because I’ll remember you for sure.

But when the day comes
That my mind runs away
And I cannot recall your name, your voice, your face,
I’ll laugh with you in a place you cannot hear
And smile a smile in an unseen somewhere
And I’ll hug you secretly as you touch my hand
And I will still remember, though you may not understand.

by Cynthia Johnson