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He begins to write less and less
Filled and flipped every page
Having Chapters of every age
Writing references
Putting dashes, parenthesis
Mind's alert, body's lifeless
He is plugged to a machine
Lungs malfunctioning
life's now refashioning
Relatives paying respect
Adults first, little ones next
The room's quieting, death creeping in
He's said his goodbyes
final breath and then bow's out
People crying inside their shout
Amidst so much lament
A man's final moment
His Book, done and dusted.
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as important as how we approach and cherish life, how we approach and appreciate death and the final moments, I think.
You did a good job approaching a difficult subject here, mate, thank you for sharing the poem.
Thank you for reading through it
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