I met an Uncle of mine
Begging death not to forget
The lost essence of his time.
Emphasising he is at-
-The gate, where life is no wine
Hence, he needs an end to breath.
The order keeps changing line
He said, nothing to regret
Spilling out narrow and wide,
His age mates he knows are late
Making breath on earth a pine
Walking on but dead inside.
Vinzpoetry 