At the end of the book
the pages run out.
The words stop.
There is no future
only a past:
The splendid pageantry of seldom-told tales
The exhilaration of the finish
The sorrow of the leaving
People and places, conquest and conflict
All
Adrift in memory.
Turn off the light
Pull the covers tight
In the soft assurance of a pillow
A sweet, sweet dream
Goodnight.
(Previously published in Webstatic, May 2000; Poetry the Write Way Anthology, Writers Club Press,2000)
Laurence Overmire
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-end-63/
