As his days neared their end,
he faced them alone.
No wife. No family. No friends. All dead.
He had become a hermit, alone
and lonely, but he yielded to his fate.
He’s had eighty-three years of a bittersweet life
with many dreams unfulfilled.
One freezing winter night
he fell asleep on an old creaking bed
in a dingy apartment he couldn’t afford to heat.
He dreamed about those unfulfilled dreams
in that freezing winter night and died during those dreams,
his body stiff and frozen to death.
Bob Boyd
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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