The Wait For An Omen
He did not write again
On the blue sky
The way my story would end,
How and when I would die.
He did not want the rainclouds,
To wash it away in a mocking way
Or be swept by the wind,
He did not want me
To know my end,
He did not bring me to die.
But I know
All stories do end,
So would mine one day.
Only I have to wait
It will not surprise me.
This poem is about:
Me