Best Medicine

His life bleak and joyless,
Kept alive with ten pills,
His complaints never ceased.
A great athlete in his youth,
How had he come to this?
Alone, his wife had left him;
All his friends had died.
Nothing left to live for,
He stopped taking his pills.
What was the use? Why
Prolong his miserable life?
He decided to kill himself.
Pointless to keep living
In such abject loneliness
And unceasing misery.

Just as he pointed his Glock
to his head and grasped the
Trigger, his phone rang.
An old flame who said she
Missed him and wanted to
See him. The romance
Rekindled, he took his pills
Again and lived twenty
Loving years with her.
He often said she was
The best medicine for him,
They died on the same day,
May 17,1996 in their sleep.

Bob Boyd

BobBoyd

Author: BobBoyd

Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)

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