• Author B. D. West

Melancholy of Passing

Melancholy of Passing

I thought I lay sleeping under the warmth of my blankets this cold October’s night.

I slowly breathe in and out.

As I awaken my body fills with fright.

I realize my life will no longer be the same.

Warmth turns to coldness as I have never felt before, almost forgetting my name.

I rise from my warm comfortable bed; looking back I see what was once warm,

what was once me.

The body that was once me lay expressionless under the soft warm linen that I will no longer feel, no longer see.

Grief begins to wrap around me, around my every emotion, around my very being.

I take one last look at my hands.

They were mine, they were a mans.

They were hands that touched everything in life.

I touched her face, I made her my wife.

How I loved my long hair that once swayed in the summer winds.

And with those lips, how I always made amends.

A numb cold tear runs down my icy face.

I must not look back as I leave to my loved ones, I must keep up my ghostly pace.

My death journey leads me outside into the star lit night sky.

I turn one last time to the home of my loved ones and wave goodbye.

I turn and head into the unknown.

I seem to recall every word ever spoken, every moment I lived now that I am alone.

I feel alive, not dead.

Maybe this isn’t real, maybe it’s all in my head.

I long to run back to those days in autumn when time was more simple.

Not here, not now on this endless never ending path.

In a shadow filled forest my feet make no sound.

Only coldness and memories accompany me now.

So many things left untold, unsaid, undone.

Time to leave this world my time has come.

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Author B. D. West all rights reserved