The pitter patter of the rain splashes against the tin roof.
The smell of sickness hangs in the air.
Hospice was called, they said they'd be there.
You said you were ready.
The energy has shifted and you know you're one of many.
An untimely truth - you ask if you should take your medicine with food.
Coughing and wheezing, you say it's the divine light you're seeing.
The cancer rusts inside your lungs,
smoking now - doesn't seem so fun.
You smile, knowing you're about to be hung in a frame.
A memory, captured in time. Flowers will be sent, and your loved ones will cry.
You'll lose everything but your name.
None of this bothers you, it puts you in a good mood.
A mood one wouldn't expect - as they take their last breaths, lying on their death bed.
I'll say my prayers, and one day I hope to see you there.
