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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Somewhere at the end of the hallway Fourth ward, first room- today He opened his eyes; Frail with every strain He looked a little different though; Old in in his late 90’s Trying to get a glimpse of his sunset At the furthest wall- a clock Everything was clear yet fading Time ticking on him He wanted more than anything-to fight To fight for what was slipping away His heavy breathe…hissing from a way Underneath his chest He wanted to say many things In his time he had seen a lot So many battles he fought And all he had had—smiled Son of the soil, a man of the people He had less now; save for past titles The many escapades, young and tall Back then in the days He remembered his many ‘friends’ With whom he dawned nights on a bottle Then he heard the sound of the life machine; A little change from the teller machine He tried to rise in futile struggles Clutched his wife’s hand..Settled eyes on his sons Tears dropping with the rise of the alarm_ From the life machine The world was ending….. No the journey was ending The world is a place of battles A field filled with fighters But each fighting for a different course He was alone No one understood him all this time They were all fighting…their battle ‘fear of loss’ He was alone in a crowd To the life machine, he listened Nurses running back and forth… The stench of drugs in his breathe… His failing strength…. Then silence…..darkness! He was gone! NGUGI NDEGWAH
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