It's the last breath of a man yet he calls.
The insane fear of death falls.
Yet in my very porch I relished on the sweetest wine,
Seated, legs crossed, enjoying nature's gifts so fine.
Relaxed, carefree..., I watched the night unbothered.
The full moon, the cool wind, the night birds.. all uncovered.
Then the ringing began stealing the spotlight.
A brother calling, fighting death with no one in sight.
Buzz, buzz, buzz... Left untouched.
Inhaled, exhaled... Indifferent, the night I watched.
Never knew the 'ringing' was a man last call.
Never knew it was a six feet under fall.
There I was in my porch relishing on the sweetest wine.
Seated, legs Crossed, enjoying nature's gifts so fine.
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THE RINGING
Poetry#death # lastcall The poem is about a dieing man last call that sadly never received an answer.
