Natasha-Jayne Wigley Poet Sonnet

The End

Do you hear the tick, the tock,

The end creeping to steal you away?

Watch intently the hands of the clock,

As the sky fades from blue to grey.

Spring turns to winter, and dawn to dusk,

Every second that passes may be one too late,

As you feel yourself rot from skin to husk,

Your regrets begin to infiltrate.

A life wasted and never spent,

A tragedy beyond compare,

You can't reverse nor can repent,

Eternity has you in its snare.

Take this as a lesson, my friend;

Don't put it on hold - don't wait 'til the end.

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Caren Krutsinger August 6, 2019 at 1:27 PM "Your regrets begin to infiltrate. A life wasted and never spent," - which reminds me that when they polled people who were in the nursing homes, the only thing they regret are NOT TRYING things they really WANTED TO DO. Failing bothered none of them. Nicely done! Welcome to Poetry Soup!