The last laugh.
For whom the bell tolls…
My feet have taken me far.
My home a blip in fading Time.
Heart callused more than feet.
Yet, more brittle than the shards walked upon.
Calluses…
Oh, those that have robbed me of breath.
My eyes the receding waves —
Recede do they into the darkness lying within.
A laugh…
Ages since those creases went up my face.
Those sparkling teeth worn by gritting —
Are but futile in incessant quibbling.
Its over…
The pail is empthy.
The milk strewn over my blotted life —
Anticipating the final savor.
The bell tolls.
Trickles out does the last drop.
The strewn milk dries in winds of Time —
Leaving behind only the empty pail.