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The crops in the fields sway,
As I walk through, lost in thought,
I hear the creatures at the end of day,
Returning to nests, to their loved ones.

Sky splashed with pink,
Hills rinsed with blue,
Horses stop to drink,
In the delights of the view.

As I climb the rugged stone stair,
Of life’s harsh pathway,
I look down at where I stood there,
Lost, confused; unloved.

I remember my grief,
At his passing,
His life so brief,
So swiftly cut short.

I’m nearing the top now,
Of that harsh stone stairway,
And I wonder how,
I climbed without a fall.

Relatives, friends
They all kept me there,
Always there, a hand to lend,
I was so ungrateful.

But now he is dead,
I realise what he did for me,
My life is a shimmering thread,
Soon to be cut away.

Now I’m at the end,
The view is great,
But I know, just round the bend,
He awaits; my friend.

As I try to round the bend,
Of the harsh, ragged trail,
So eager to observe the end,
I slip and slide from that pathway.

Down I fall,
Into the abyss.
It is dark.
There is no escape.