Originally posted by Grampy Bobby
[b]Oncology Ward, Room #101 (window side)
It's the dead of winter. All the airports are frozen. They blew out the last candle three days ago when your roommate,
Joe Doe, JR, former athlete, disappeared in the wee hours without a fight. Care to share your own deathbed thoughts.
Whistle winter wind I hear you call,
Another brave soul to fall.
What will it matter what it said,
Breathe your last, expired now dead.
Frail and weak stop and take ease,
succumb frail body each new disease.
Gathered round to say goodbye
friend and foe truth and lie.
Expected and still yet a shock,
surprise and tears, mourning frock.
You lay there now your work undone,
cold as stone, nothing won.
A legacy of hurt and pain,
others looking for their gain.
Bitterness do you bequeath,
lying beneath starched white sheet.
Curtains pulled children crying,
nursing staff failing but trying.
You are now gone and soon dispatched,
many years since you were matched.
A widow now shall be left behind,
and three more of human kind.
They sit and watch unsure of deed.
Clinging now to whatever creed.
Man in black does read wise words.
oil on the forehead it seems absurd.
Left alone in a crowded ward.
Cancer has wielded it's sword.
Preparations must be made,
casket chosen where shall he be laid?
Prayers said, what are they worth?
Down down, six feet of earth.
Happy memories cold comfort for one,
rain falling now you are gone.
The long black chariot steers you away
until you visit this place another day.
Family scattered now, left the fold,
no longer a unit, nothing to hold.
House sold from floor to rafter.
not really sure about the hereafter.