The clock on the wall is ticking slowly,
a reminder of time.
Time, that we don't have, as the seconds pass.
Sitting here, as the hours upon us trespass.

This room smells of the chemicals
that keep the room spotless.
It is cold here, so that every being
In this room is shivering.

Small bits of light fly in through the window
as morning arrives.
It's his last day, everyone says so.
The doctors outside make noise, rushing to and fro.

A man lies on the bed before me,
frail and weak, like a withering flower.
The sorrow in the room is great,
While he is in an unconscious state.

Nurses tip-toe about, keeping quiet,
for they know he is about to leave.
Family is gathered, with tears dripping from solemn eyes
Hope. That is all there is, before he dies.

Everyone knows he is leaving us,
yet no one wishes to admit it.
Suddenly we all hear the sound of death..


His last breath.