Perhaps it’s not a normal trait
To keep upon my mental slate
A list of special things that I
Aspire to do before I die,
Like the list I have within;
Yet, recorded there I see:
“Surf the waves at Waikiki;
Raft the Colorado’s flow;
See the Northern Lights aglow;
And… hear your voice again.”

Some things I’ve done and crossed them through,
But these accomplishments are few,
And some I’ll never do, I know—
The last one was so long ago
That I can’t remember when:
“Fish for tarpon in the Keys;
Take a cruise on tropic seas;
Feel an aviator’s thrill;
Go skiing down an Alpine hill;
And… see your face again.”

Some things included there I find
Are foolish fancies of my mind,
But still I keep them on the slate,
For wildest dreams, through quirks of fate,
Happen every now and then:
“Scale the heights of Everest;
Find a buried treasure chest;
Write a book; compose a tune;
Fly a rocket to the moon,
And… call you mine again.”