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.