Do not
Sit me in front of the TV
At the old folk’s home.
Push me to a window
So I can watch the birds,
The clouds, the changing sky,
The wind, the trees,
Approaching storms.
As long as I live,
I want to remain
Part of something
Real and alive,
Worthy of praise.
And if my eyes are dim,
Crack the window, please,
So I can smell the rain,
Feel the breeze
And hear the rustle of leaves
And the chirp of birds.
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