Sense Sonnet - Pumper

 My Death

I am a woman, old and gray,

And now I'm terminally ill.

Here in a hospice I will stay

Until death comes, and soon it will.

I'm more curious than afraid

Of how death will turn out to be.

Ninety years ago I got made.

Maybe I'll be made a new me,

Pop up in a new time and place.

I gaze out in a gasping breath,

Whatever next, now soon I'll face.

And sure enough, I gaze at death.

A handsome young man standing there.

So where he takes me, I don't care.