Time is ageing My time, peeling away Layer after layer of family, Friends and country folk.
Left am I with a hunger for life In what remains of the day To linger, destined for a shortened Or, with luck, a longer wait.
No lifeline thrown, Diseased and whisked away Wisps of memories Whispered into remembrance.
Heads bent Tears glued with dryness A sigh of tiredness Flowers of sadness, blinding white.
I will not count until that day Descends and it is my turn To draw my number. Ashes in an envelope A last journey through life Until slit open And thrown to the breeze I shed and spread my ashen grey.
