The Wish Of A Dying Man
The mirror shows my reflections at noon
My shadow flees at night,
Looking at my past I see ignorance,
But the future is not foretold,
As the winds blows through my window pane
I sit reminiscing on the good old days,
Days of my youth far spent,
When the flowers bloom,
As dreams fade away like the night,
And my plans blows like breeze in the corn field,
Like promise written on a seashore,
It was washed away by the great tide of life,
Tick, tick, tick,
The clock it ticks away like the sands of time,
Sitting and waiting on my rocking chair,
The rhythmic movement of my rocking chair
Thinking of wrongs that may have been made right,
Awaiting death because it is constant,
Wishing I can turn back the hands time,
An unrealistic expectations from a dying man.