I wonder how many times I've passed my coroner on the street

I wonder if the tools that will be used to carve the "Y" of finality into my chest have already been crafted

If the tip of my nose will touch mahogany 

When the dormant cell in the back of my skull decides to blink its sleepy eye,

Will I hear him yawn?

What did I do each year on the day that I will no longer be?

Will I cry at my funeral?

Just a few thoughts I had