Dwindlings in the Crysalis

I will not enter this pod

which promises rebirth.

Nothing worse than being recycled

by accident,

going to sleep quietly

and ending up as compost.

No-one would say it's wrong,

this new way of non beginnings;

there would be no missing me,

no songs or sad laments.

'But it's an eco friendly end.'

Not for me. I linger.

I go past my sell-by date,

and if I seldom smile,

I still think.