The Wait

I sit here and wait.

Waiting on death to approach my door.

Will it be the man in black or God my savor, my lord?

How many more days or hours do I have left until the reaper takes

my last breath? I can not run. I can not hide .

So with me here, watching and waiting, it should be no surprise.

To my loved ones you must know; I will love you in death.

But it is what it is. I have no regrets.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem