with my tiny wings

i cried at night

and in the daylight

standing on unsteady feet

knowing i should eat,

there was no appetite

in spite 

of losing weight.

and when i tried to draw a deep breath

it came out small,

matching my size

as if to sympathize

with my growing concerns.

a friendly doctor said i could be dead

or perhaps not

but it all depended on what it is i've got,

and i had something

in my lung,

and being no longer young,

there was a good chance

i had attended my last dance.

Cancer?

but I'm a Virgo!!!

and i didn't want to leave,

YOU!!

my memories are not as important

as the here and NOW:

we sit 

sipping a dry wine and

our eyes shine.

you ask and I reply:

i want to wash dirty dishes in hot soapy water 

and thereby clean

my fingernails,

and ride the open highways and rails,

singing songs remembering Johnny Cash,

and then set a world record in the 100 yard dash,

while remaining humble,

writing a four line poem

which explains how the Rocky Mountains

became rocky,

and how our scars can be healed by a kiss.

let me be healthy,

to see the tiny hummingbird spin its' 

even tinier wings

all the way to the sea of Paradise and return

with a flower in its' mouth.

i want to hand you a flower, too,

with my tiny wings.