THAT LAST STEP

Mournful was the summer sky,

That prowled above his head,

Scornful as the clouds rolled by,

Alive and still not dead,

Treacherous the dusky blue,

That crept up on the shore,

Venomous it’s icy hue,

Took a bite and rolled back for more,

Bravely reinvading,

The sandy crescent beach,

Gravely infiltrating,

But always out of reach,

Ancient constellations,

Look down across the bay,

Patient indignations,

That it’ll always be this way,

Inhalations shallow,

As he stepped from off the ledge,

Expressions sallow,

As he lost touch with the edge,

A flesh-covered comet,

Heading to his icy grave,

One dark coloured plummet,

and no more to be brave.