I sit beside the fire and think

I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow-flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were,
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen:
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago,
And people who will see a world
That I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before,
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door.

J.R.R. Tolkien 1892 - 1973

And when death finds me

And when death finds me,

I hope it whispers,

“Come now,

the fight is done,”

and takes my hand gently,

like an old friend

who understands

why I’m so tired.

I hope it says,

“You've carried enough,

let me hold this weight for you.”

I hope it promises,

“Here there is quiet.

Here you can rest.”

Ticus Poetry