As the plane is falling
I am ready to die,
knowing my life was well spent,
knowing I was a good man.
No rich nor famous,
no mindless nor wise,
just a good son, a good dad,
a good friend, a good hand,
simple yet decadent
and full of good vibes.
Somewhere I left a poem
unimportant to mankind,
but so full of my soul
no time can rewrite.
As the plane is falling
I am grateful for this chance,
having lived, having loved,
having laugh, having cried.
All the pieces of my time
perfectly fitting at last,
on the edge of my memory;
at the end of my past.