The Edge of Dying

 

I fell into a silhouetted sleep

alone with tubes

catching my life

between two worlds

breezes touched my arms

and robotic clicks of numbers.

My dreams were ethereal

filled with flying silk.

Masked faces whispering

numbers exponentially

“Can you see the angels?”

Someone softly questioned.

I sadly said, “no.”

The low humming

of oxygen

and more silhouetted

softness stood next to me.

I knew the sweet smell.

It was you.

Angel

please take me home

that’s where I belong

sleeping next to you

into whatever eternities

await.  Without flight

I shall pass and not return.