Vonnegut, McEachern, Hamilton

My heroes are all dying
It seems I've attached to the ancient
Who are frail
And destined to pass
To whatever lies beyond
This pitiful shell

Fond of their wrinkles
And rough voices
And white hair
You're supposed to live forever
I'm supposed to have more time
More opportunity
Another chance at doing what I should

They seem and seemed so alive
And imbued with more
Than I could consider
To offer
And yet they keep dying
Branches falling off of
A pointless tree

I believed
In existing to change
And they changed me
And they changed the world
Which is supposed to be enough
But it doesn't feel like it
This tableau empty
Without those gentle grumpy words