The year 2020, mid December,
The last moon rose, I thought.
My eyes closed under the glowing
Winter light, branches bathed
It seemed in a ghastly moonlight.
‘The end seems near.’
My mind repeatedly regurgitated.
Unceasingly the machine beeped
In the hospital,
Shattering the last of my silences.
I thought I’d pray, if I were to have
A moment of serenity, but the machine
Seemed to be hiccuping- its last beeping sounds.
Would it live if I were dead?
Who’s to tell but the moon
- That watches over thousand souls.
© Mumtaz N Khorakiwala