My days ahead aren’t numbered
Just because of death;
My years are not for hymn boards,
The pages are not set;
My time is unencumbered,
I’ve lives to live ahead.

Clawing presumptive ends,
I’ve closed the dismal thread;
I threw away the herring bones,
I locked the empty chest.
I’ll join a flock and learn to fly,
If flight brings me to rest.