Imagine one last story book, <br />One more chance to read how we lived; <br />Die how we lived. <br />As time destroys everything around us, <br />Still the book stays calmly, <br />Carelessly, mounted on a single shelf. <br />Imagine the last chapter, <br />A monument of a marathon, <br />That hurts not to run; <br />That brings us nowhere. <br />The dying pages of an authors last hopes, <br />Put to paper by the very pen he died upon; <br />Lived upon, wrote upon. <br />Imagine one last sentence, <br />A dying wish, a pleading wish <br />Of peace and forgiveness. <br />For the world is dying all around, <br />And still the book stands. <br />Imagine one last word, <br />To die in the moonlight, <br />To reflect to the everglades, <br />And bring hope to a world, <br />That's dying all around us<br /><br />Daniel Yetman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/18-months-later/
