This is not my last poem– ask my wife.
I wrote these lines last, though I conceived them first.
I wrote another poem, and returned to finish this.

I am still alive. Typing— can’t you hear?
This could still be my last line in my final poem.
The verdict comes when facts are known.
I may not be there for that debate.

I won’t be there for every discussion.
If this turned out to be indeed my last, know this:

1. I did not believe that at the time.
2. I had nothing urgent to communicate.
3. Like you, I have regrets, unfinished projects,
   unfulfilled desires. I am not satisfied.
4. I fell short: expected more: to be better, stronger,
   Higher, happier, richer– you know the drill.

I understand all of this is temporary.
But I might be wrong.