The end

The wind blows upon the water,

Setting off ripples, the coys don’t care.

The leaves fall, their flutter unheard.

No one will come again.

They all died.

I realize the fish will die off soon,

When winter sets,

and no one there to feed them.

Shame about them.

We used to enjoy throwing them,

The leftover stale bread.

You chose the place well.

Oh. It still hurts, make no mistake,

A hole in the lungs. Thanks.

But at least you did me the favour,

Of this last moment.

And what will you do now?

Sure, you’re a survivor ,

But this is the end.

Hope you make the most of it.

I would recommend things,

But you don’t need that.

So walk on,

Past the fake stepping stones.

Walk out of the end of my view,

And hope yours is as calm.

Thanks for the whiskey, by the way.

I take a gulp and feel the warmth.

Not hard to breath anymore.

No pressure, dry mouth,

I think I’ll close my eyes for a minute...