Poem: Three Hours

If I had three hours to live
I would make sure I was good
with two:
my son and God.

If I had three weeks to live
I'd record a video message for my family and friends,
I'd forget house-cleaning, laundry and debt,
I'd hug my son a lot and stop to smell the roses,
And I would make sure I was good
with two:
my son and God.

If I had three months to live
I'd quit my day job and finish that book,
I'd travel to England and cry a lot,
I'd eat what I wanted and die obese,
And I would make sure I was good
with two:
my son and God.

If I had three years to live
I'd work part-time
and do something meaningful with my remaining years,
I'd let the dirt build up in the corners,
I'd take out credit to travel the world,
But before I die I would make sure I was good
with two:
my son and God.

If I had forever
I'd sleep the first year.
What else?
Let me get back to you later,
how does a thousand years sound?

If I just didn't know how long I had,
I'd probably continue to work at my job
even though I hate it.
I'd tirelessly clean my house
and fret over what people thought
even though they drove me nuts.
Why write today what you can write tomorrow?
I wouldn't stop and smell the roses or water them.
They'd die and I'd buy another pot.
I'd never get to England.
And I'd probably forget to tell my son that I loved him
and felt so proud of him.
I'd forget to make sure I was good
with two:
my son and God.
Again.

Poem by Ann Elle Altman