Adrift Poem by J. Edward Armstrong

At peace in the wake,
no more schedules to keep.
A fear only fleeting; ah,
memories of bliss.
Adrift; gently rise,
then roll down yet again.
Beneath, dark, and;
so, so deep, and, deep
Oh, such a subtle chill, but
be not consumed, by
Time now left; and
with a warming calm.
Inhale the sweet, sweet air,
then, surrender the breath.