And this is the end.

 

Not quite, though. I still have about 40 words to go. 

I am embroidering part of a poem by Billy Collins. 

"And this is the end,

the car running out of road,

the river losing its name in an ocean,

the long nose of the photographed horse

touching the white electronic line.

This is the colophon, the last elephant in the parade,

the empty wheelchair, and pigeons floating down in the evening.
Here the stage is littered with bodies,
the narrator leads the characters to their cells,
and the climbers are in their graves.
It is me hitting the period
and you closing the book."

                                                                  (from Aristotle by Billy Collins)