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Dying Breath

by Mark Spencer © 2002

She didn't see the transit bus
As she exited the shop.
She just rushed into the crosswalk,
And the driver couldn't stop.

Her world, and everything she'd known,
Was about to reach its end.
Her fire would be extinguished
Like a candle in the wind.

But there were things still left unsaid,
And so much she hadn't done.
She hoped that she would have more time,
Her journey had just begun.

She earned a scholarship to Yale,
Thought her soul had found its mate.
But even if we gain the world,
We'll never escape our fate.

Death comes like a thief in the night,
And it stole her life away,
With no remorse for deeds undone,
Or the things she'd never say.

We can't take this life for granted,
Or put off our "I love you's".
Right here, right now, is all we have,
All you need to do is choose.

Regret is what most people feel,
When they're in the grip of death.
And with a sigh, it drifts away,
Carried by our dying breath.

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This poem was a finalist in the September 2021 poetry contest

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Click Here to contact Mark Spencer to request permission to use this poem.