Let Me Not To Death, Bleed
The window panes are brightly lit,
The rays enter my room with grit.
Their target, my eyes shut tight,
I turn over; my response to the light.
The room turns into an oyster; a gem,
Sleep now hanging just by the hem.
My sleep, it is gone, all too sudden,
Welcoming the day, I start to redden.
Finally I’m off the bed; on the floor,
My arms too weak, too sore.
I stretch my body, I strengthen up
I look at my hair, Uhh! a messy lump…
My French window… God, I’m in love!
It’s my morning beauty… my dove.
The coffee still hot, wisps in the air
Reaching with grace I take it with care.
Sipping the delight into my balcony,
I see my street, somehow too melancholy.
Birds chirping on the trees, the breeze
Kissing my hair, I take it all in with ease.
Leaning on the railing I cry, I plead
Today, Lord, let me not to death, bleed
I need to count my days, my moments,
I tried but sorry, the doctor laments.
The big C has got hold of the volcano…
It will no longer gush, it’s too late, oh no.
I can see the day, feel the morning
Without a trace of regret, not weeping.
I have but mornings such as these
To wish my time would forever freeze.
Copyright © Neethu Roy | Year Posted 2012
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