Don't Call Me Back!

 

When the road gets long and the body gives out,

and the doctor starts talkin’ in codes,

I'll just smile and nod like I understand

every word in those medical codes.

They'll ask for papers and signatures,

for choices shrinking with time,

And I’ve lived long enough to know

what waits on the other side.

So write it plain in capital letters,

no hemming, hawing, or slack:

If I get that close to heaven,

don’t you dare call me back.

I’ve had my share of aches and pains,

my midnight talks with the ceiling,

my bargain‑bin body with dents and dings

and parts that forgot all feeling.

I’ve danced with trouble, laughed with fools,

and loved more than I can say,

and when that final sunrise comes,

I won’t be lookin’ away.

So let the angels check their watches,

let the gates swing open wide,

I’ll stroll on in with a grateful grin,

no earthly strings to tie.

And if some nurse says, “We can save him,”

tell her kindly, “Cut him some slack.

He’s closer to heaven than he’s ever been,

and he ain’t comin’ back.”

wcd