Monday 3 July 2017

The atheist

I touch my hand
The surface gives
My fingers slip below

“Just like a dream
Not real at all
Those many year”, I think.

I float above
And look down on
What once I thought I was

When those eyes saw
And arms embraced
I knew that dead was gone

But here I am
Floating around
Right above my corpse.


2001

No comments:

Post a Comment