After the blustery day decides
To draw the blinds on Sully,
He tries to close his eyes,
But the pictures won't go.
His shrivelled hand clutches
His last wrinkled wish,
But he knows it would slip
Like sand; and he smiles.
He smiles and watches the ceiling,
And the dying patients below,
Relishing the last lances
Of the ageing Sun through
The misshapen window;
Sully's eyes take the final dive
And a whisper creeps out
''Finally I shall be free."
It is the most beautiful lie
He has ever told himself.
To draw the blinds on Sully,
He tries to close his eyes,
But the pictures won't go.
His shrivelled hand clutches
His last wrinkled wish,
But he knows it would slip
Like sand; and he smiles.
He smiles and watches the ceiling,
And the dying patients below,
Relishing the last lances
Of the ageing Sun through
The misshapen window;
Sully's eyes take the final dive
And a whisper creeps out
''Finally I shall be free."
It is the most beautiful lie
He has ever told himself.
Comments
Post a Comment