Transformation and Timing My eyes strain in constant pain the light too bright to bare, I step out to find fresh air. It is always sweeter at this hour, I fill my nostrils with the chill of autumn, the scents of decay and dew, my eyes rest in the comfort of a sky its deepest blue. The exchange we rarely witness of night to day, occurs with swift quickness. As my eyes reopen to my moment being stolen... The switch had been made, the barrier crossed, the sun sprinkled pink to the clouds, purple to the sky, quickly tonight has become last night... my last night. My eyes close and there I go, slumping like a slinky down the front stairs, with peace I release, my last breathe of the freshest air.
Well, admittedly no. I wrote it sitting on my porch, locked out accidentally of my own house. It was inspired by the main character from "The History Of Love", as that's what I've been reading. An older male who is nervous to die without being seen that day. So, inevitably I've been thinking of ways this man may pass.