Withering inside, my father's head lies
slanted sideways in the hospital bed.
His arms slung over the rail, he tries
to process the harsh winding course he led.
Ailments lingered past pity and sadness.
No tears. Not from me or anyone.
We calmly accept demise and madness
from the decaying end we no longer run.
An omen of maturity or numb?
Whose to say at this time but there is peace
as death's wide steady eyes look on the sum
understanding of this life's short-term lease.
I would just like to know what he's thinking
as he stares the abyss without blinking.
- By Aurin Squire
slanted sideways in the hospital bed.
His arms slung over the rail, he tries
to process the harsh winding course he led.
Ailments lingered past pity and sadness.
No tears. Not from me or anyone.
We calmly accept demise and madness
from the decaying end we no longer run.
An omen of maturity or numb?
Whose to say at this time but there is peace
as death's wide steady eyes look on the sum
understanding of this life's short-term lease.
I would just like to know what he's thinking
as he stares the abyss without blinking.
- By Aurin Squire
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