My father died in our spare room
Where he had been sojourning
Until eventually he stayed put and
His skin turned to buttered wax.
In dying my father was silent
Didn’t ask for even a sip of water.
You have to understand
He was 99 years old
He thought he would live forever
And really wanted to.
Instead he slipped away because nobody
Not even my father
Who argued like a lawyer
Can muster a winning case against death.