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Poetry: Dying

by Beth Atchison

Created on: December 10, 2008

how will I know
when my time is up

will there be a signal,
a nod, a gesture

that I've lingered a
moment too long

and what will I say
will I argue
will I plead

Look...
too many pages
in my notebook
are still blank

Wait...
perhaps you
have me confused
with someone else

someone shorter
someone older
someone more content

to leave, than I.
perhaps I will bargain
the world needs something

anything that will stand
on its own and
not be flung into the earth
or reduced to smoldering ash.

Learn more about this author, Beth Atchison.
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