Softly the last vestige of light

fades from eyes filled with gray years

gazing through an open window out to sea

And is this the final rushing descent

to be with the waves pulled out and lost?

Too far beyond even the teeth of the world

grinding slowly to dust everything that was left behind

on the other side of that window to the sea?

A book unfinished, left resting on the sill

A cigar still smoking its last breaths

A bottle of gold left open, evaporating

and still with a steady rhythm

a rocking chair whose occupant 

seems to have only just stood up to leave

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Image by M W from Pixabay