His sudden dead left me in disarray
I had to learn the Dutch way of finances
My spirit young but my short term memory
has its hiatus due to much-used cylinders
I am not bothered by any pondering
of things gone wrong or ‘I should have done better.’
My albums are in boxes for my children
photo’s gathered on lazy Sunday afternoons
I live in a foreign city in a for me foreign country
Even though I was born here, home is somewhere else
As on a grocery list, I am working on my ending
Realizing that dead will come, sooner or later
although I prefer the later anytime.
I don’t want strangers going through what’s mine
That is the rub, it is a language barrier.
My children cannot read the original writing
Thus I must shred my worthless treasures
My life an adventure, no house-kitchen-garden existence
I am preparing for my final and greatest event.