The days are now numbered.
But the last one only God knows
When death brings one to slumber.
The cloudy skies hang so low.
Soon a body will no longer be encumbered.
Out of it the life within will flow
To rise to the heavens with the numbered.
The smiles upon their faces will grow
When one’s spirit goes to those remembered
While the body goes to be alone.
Let the cold winds blow in life’s December.
But not to end the spirit.