Early this morning
I thought I might have seen
my last sunrise
Held my last great-grandkid
Smelled my last Rose
Might have tasted my last
Truly great home-made repast
Just might have parsed out
My last bit
Of prose
In the pre-dawn darkness
Felt the squeeze on my chest
And wandered idly
'would this night
Be my last? '
would this be my final test,
This balloon ‘neath my breast?
Would my future become
Only now,
My past?
I shrugged and thought
'whatever will be,
Will be
And from my bed
arose
The pressure in my chest
Would not be
Be put to rest
Might just as well
Die awake
I suppose
Two full strength aspirins
A hot cup of tea
And the pressure
Slowly evaporated
Away
And I realized, in chagrin
with a bittersweet grin
I'd live yet to read
The comics
Another day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem