~ A Dying Man's Reverie ~

In the flat, icy, cold, he floated
Carefully breathing his final breaths
His thoughts taking him away
From the pins and needles 
From the cold sting
Of his, fast approaching, oceanic passing
It's funny, he thought, how the pain of the wet
Could bring a warm comfort as he floated away
Into the memories of youth, the back seat sex
The sermons at church 
The hunger, in his first taste of love
The pewter spoon at breakfast
The prayers in the dark
And all of the things that he might desperately miss
All because his lies, had rightfully capsized
Leading him here, into this flat, icy, cold
Where he floated above himself
Choosing each memory, pacing each breath
For the inevitable had arrived
And he found himself unprepared
For this icy, cold, death
He recalled a promise he'd made
To himself as a child
That he would not die alone
Never, die alone
Yet, here he was
With a bullet in his chest
Floating alone, into a watery grave
Where he no longer felt pain
Only regrets
For he'd been a dishonest man
And to himself, he recognized the irony
All of the money and all of the power
Could no longer help
As he drew his last breath
And sank into the blackness
Of a cold, icy, chamber
Filled with the stench
Of all his
Ice, cold,
Regrets...

Tony Taylor