As I lie here on this cold trolley,
looking up at the bright lights,
bewildered, frightened,
not knowing where I am,
wondering how I got here,
what has happened to me,
thinking about life, how hard it is,
rushing here and there,
trying to live for today,
but what are we but skin and bones,
without feelings we are nothing,
warm blood coursing through our veins,
our heart pumping relentlessly,
and as I lie there the scene changes,
no longer do I see a young man,
there lies the body of a frail old man,
the fire burns less in his eyes,
he feels not the hand gripping him,
nor the tears that fall from her eyes,
that grey old woman sitting next to him,
looking as pretty to him as she always did,
that first time they met so long ago,
the darkness descending around him,
a feeling of warmth and comfort,
of knowing that his time has come,
the life he had so filled with love,
happiness and good times he remembers now,
a tear drops he bids his loved one goodbye,
and thenI realise that man is me,
that hand is yours, the tears real,
and so what do I conclude from this
that life be it ever filled with hardships
op in the corner of one eye, twists and turns that make us strong,
is so very precious indeed to us,
but never any good without feeling
2007-07-10
10:13:51
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8 answers
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asked by
liam_jones_10_10
2
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry