Last Seconds Poem by Alexander Brown

We all stand in line, waiting for the end,
as we stand peering over the pale face of a friend.
Happy and active… No, the image of the grim is what stays,
staring at your loved one, the sound of the seconds souls sailing away.
The hand now holding is so limp and lifeless.
The prayers now whispered so soft and hopeless.
Words not heard, eyes gently closed.
The death Rhasp from his lungs, a tube in his nose.
Tears down the faces of people saying goodbyes.
His soul floats away from where his body still lies.