Dust To Dust Poem by Matthew Routledge

as we sit alone
in final hours
we think of things we wish to say
to friends and family and rivals

we think of time that we have spent
so freely
thinking of life as space
never ending with no time to die

we think how we have never seen her face
the one we thought would come to us
the one true love
the one we never chased

we think of dreams that died
the ones we held so close
the ones that even in the darkness when there was no hope
we found to rise from the ashes as the phoinex does

we have seen our friends go and grow
we have never folowed
i would come our turn
but now the saga ends

alone with nothing but memories
and some of those so cold to touch
we think of life as a cliff
and now we're going over

we have not seen her face
or chased the burning dreams
we have no grown and prospered
but still we may have lived

in those final hours
we see what we have missed
and we hunger for what we can not have
a new start

we all want to begin again
and start a new
but life is one foul swoop
that nocks you off your feet