I often wake to the
sun parting ways with
the sky; setting course
for a life among the old.
I do not fret as I
watch the open skies
flush with remorse,
nor do I fear the recourse
of my only light
staggering away.
I watch politely,
as any good man would,
as life draws her path
to its final drop of ink
blotted in the final
sunset of my eye.