Is It Time ?

I stand alone, gazing at the dying sun..

Holding on to that walking stick...

I see a butterfly, a memory of mine,

Struggling it's way toward ...

Weak, Hollow .. I try hard to help,

I trip, I fall.. I fall the final fall ...

While it rests on my frail shoulder, 

I hear it sing, a lullaby of my past ...

With highs and lows, like the notes,

It calls on me, to take me away at last ...

I swim away, into the emptiness,

With a promise never to return...

--
Regards
Hamza