The Gift Poem by Ray Sinclair

That day I died was no special day, just a day
Nevertheless, there I lay.
I wasn't young, I wasn't old,
quick death, loved ones told.

What use now this lifeless shell?
Do I care if there's a heaven or hell,
so many plans not yet carried through,
I did my best, it's all you can do.

There lies a young girl her hearts so ill,
She wants to skip rope just for a thrill.
Blessed as I am she can have mine,
Now this young girl, will be a woman in time.

Lungs struggle for air, constant wheeze,
Blessed am I for he can have these.
His wife is bedside, children in bed,
family can look forward to years ahead.

Then a young man, his eyes are failing,
He cannot see, blindness prevailing.
Blessed am I for my eyes have sight,
So have my eyes, and cherish the light.

We all must surrender the body as host,
what awaits, is a mystery to most.
Please think of others, as you look from above,
Donate your organs, and give them with love.


Written by Ray Sinclair on 19/02/15
© Feb 2015 Ray Sinclair