listening to the clicking of the clock
my mind comprehends life’s briefness
reminding me that as i pass week
month and year i’m closer to my grave
listening to the cawing of the crow
my body takes wings to fly to gather
without belittling the other gatherers
to fill belly that marches to my tomb
listening to cooing of the cuckoo
my being dances to unheard rhythm
merging into the world of dancers
until that final closing of the screen
henry victor 22.02.2003
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