My mother told me,
Spend time with her.
I was either tired or too busy,
And now - I'm just bitter.
I didn't take my chance,
Now the time is gone by.
I hold her cold frozen hand,
As her soul leaves us behind.
She lay motionless, heaving chest.
And I watched with my own two eyes,
As she struggled to draw her next.
Life left her, amid our silent cries.
Death awaited her with open arms,
She welcomed him, like an old friend.
She'd come prepared with no qualms
And left with Him to face the End.
YOU ARE READING
Small Things
Poetry- Mostly metaphor-free, this is a collection featuring poetry that possibly many can relate to. - Exploration of human nature, feelings, emotions and the lot.
