On My Death Bed
I might probably write some of my very best poems,
No time to stall and very little left for writer's block.
If my entire lifetime does flash before me in seconds,
Would not an hour be enough to complete final manuscript?
Living within that bubble I now see a slowness so casual,
Not thinking within each breath having been so wasteful.
Oh all that valuable gold laced oxygen I did truly expire,
Shining now on this freezing cold air morning of departure.
Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn A.R.R.
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