Life/Death

Alan had passed beyond thin.
His bronchial cough left little doubt
That he would die before the next sunrise.
But he was conscious and articulate.

Gathered members of his family
Urged him to let go.
He told me he was not ready.
I whispered “fuck ‘em”.

Returning home in a depressed mood,
Under heavy clouds
That promised rain
I thought of recurring roof leaks.