What Are My Choices

 “What Are My Choices?”

What are my choices at the end of this road,
With silver hair shining and memories untold?
When days grow quieter and evenings more still,
Do I let the clock tick or cherish it still?

I can choose to grow bitter at time slipping by,
Or whisper my thanks with a tear in my eye.
I can choose to retreat into worry and fear,
Or lean into love with the ones I hold dear.

I can choose to keep teaching, though frail grows my hand,
To pass down the stories, the faith, and the plans.
To rock on the porch with a grandchild’s small palm,
And leave them my peace like a gentle, warm psalm.

I can choose to be present, though my body may fade,
To show them that kindness outlives what’s decayed.
I can choose to make memories—cookies, old songs—
To plant seeds of hope that will bloom when I’m gone.

So what are my choices? The answer rings clear:
To leave more of love than the sum of my years.
To walk this last stretch with my heart open wide—
For even at sunset, God walks by my side.