The Last Words Spoken

It's raining.
Soon you will take
Your soul
From my bed,
The last urgency
I have known.

And I, in the finish
Of the moment
Will falter,
Smile and open
The door
Through which

Your perfect body
Will go,
My mind
Following on
As if in prayer
Or meditation.

Now, rain falling,
The mood,
Dark and unenviable,
Cancels each gladness
In shadows
A discontent --

Grey resonance
Of soul starving
This moment
To a nonsense
That appals,
That rants,

Is indefatigble
As a smile effaced,
These the last words spoken
Whilst through
The crack of my eye
My future spills,

Distant and dim
As horizons
That colour fortunes
And watch as days
Turn back to yesterdays,
Uncertain and old

As all tomorrows.

John Cornwall

If you've any comment on this poem, John Cornwall would be pleased to hear from you.