many sunrises from now,
when generations of trees have fallen,
only to be replaced by their kin,
i will be old, and dying.

i will sit in a recliner,
next to an old-fashioned lamp
that still uses old-fashioned bulbs,
and read ancient books.

these books, approaching 70,
are showing their age as much as me.
and yet, when i open the cover
a plethora of brain synapses connect.

what was i, a little over 13?
when i first read these books...
and became enchanted by their magic,
thrust in to a world all my own.

now, on the brink of death,
just like so many of its characters,
i take a small moment to relish,
the world i had created in my mind.

this is what it means to die,
to sit in a recliner,
and read books from our youth,
aching to return to that fantasy, once more.