My Fear Of

My fear of growing old is far less than my fear of dying
To say otherwise to you I would be lying
I care not if I am buried or cremated or where my bones lay
But I do fear the thought of a life's last night and day
In ways they are lucky and happy 'twould seem
Those who believe in a hereafter and of such daydream
Of an eternity with their God in his World in the sky
Where winged angels sing in the sunshine as they fly
Above a World where flowers ever bloom that is evergreen
And where Nature's beauty is everywhere to be seen
Where birds sing all year and where the sparkling rill
Babbles it's way to the unpolluted river from it's home by the hill
A World in my thoughts that I never can see
Is this why the thought of death does trouble me?