Last Words

Lenin's last words were good dog
He uttered them and closed his eyes
The dog had brought to him a bird
To his pleasant surprise

Beethoven said friends applaud
The comedy is over
And Christiaan Barnard died abroad
In Cyprus on his own

And when I die
I want to be
In a tiny house
With a gorgeous vista overlooking the sea

This year my grandfather passed
His last words didn't mean much
He said something about his shoes
The blue and acid green ones
And then he reached down, touched his socks
The hour came, we lost him
And Lex got left sock, I got right
We have them to this day

They're on the wall
Above the desk
They watch us work
They watch us sweat
And when I die
I'll leave my socks
To my grandsons
I'll leave a lot

Last week I saw a poet die
Her last words were a-rhyming
And in the background, down the road
The church bells were a-chiming

She said I write in spite of everything
I write in spite of death
I write to fill the empty hours
The hours I have left

I write to tell you everything
In writing I remember
I write about the folks I know
The callous and the tender

I write, this is the last reason
I write to say I love you
I write to say there is no one
Beside, no one above you