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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1767447
Kind of a dark look at my final days.... when I get to them.
                              I watch the wind,

                                  And blowing wheat.

                                    While willing on,

                                        My slowing feet.

                                            Passing through,

                                                This land of sorrow.

                              Where I look ahead,

                                  For tomorrow,

                                        And to when,

                                          Tomorrow's past.

                                              Always with the hope,

                                                  Of reaching that last step.

           

                                            When I can lie,

                                        Down in the earth.

                                          And final forget.
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