NaPoWriMo day 2....Reconsider

Reconsider

In your death bed,

you perish slowly 

like morning dew.

You either slide down a blade of grass,

your limbs now too heavy to perch 

on its thin serrated leaf,

or you wait for the sun 

to turn you into a mirage

to dissipate into the heat.

But shouldn't you 

gather more of yourself, 

each drop rolling into another,

to form a new body of water?