Blink

One, two, three, four.
I hit the ground, I hit the floor.
Five, six, seven, eight.
He walks away, his strutting gait.
My friend, my hero, my little boy,
Now a man, so sly and coy.

Gold and silver, silver and gold.
So tired of waiting for me to die old.
Lights engulf my darkened stare,
Although for years, the sight's been bare.

My struggled sobs, my bleeding side.
This cannot be, I say goodbye.
With watered eyes, I heave a sigh,
And to God I now confide.

My hope, my son, with little care,
Leaves me to die like a lame mare.
The shining knife lies still and cold.
I think of him, so strong, so bold,

But once was small and full of joy,
In a time we shared, my body a toy.
And now I lay in the hands of fate,
Hoping someone will notice I'm late.
I listen for help, I listen for the door,
And only hear steps; one, two, three, four.