“Today may be my final day.”
A year ago, I chose to say
These words while getting out of bed.
Then, every day these words were said.

Except, today it slipped my mind
For I was woken from behind
By tiny knees upon my neck –
The tiny niece I picked and pecked.

I held her like an aeroplane
And zoomed her past the windowpanes,
In which I caught a glimpse of death:
A pigeon drawing final breaths.

“Today may be my final day.
And though it kills me now to say,
It may be yours; your parents’ too.”
She only laughs and gurgles, “True.”