“The Last Breath”

Ben Echeverria
January 21, 2019

The breath of father time
blows upon his neck,
down his back,
encircling his body with a chill,
an odor of aged fruit,
a fallen papaya–its pungent juices
in the winter air,
quaffing its fragrance into the wind.
Death, too, soon to come,
encircling his body with a chill,
the fallen fruit of his life,
lying in its own pungent juices,
in the winter air
quaffing his last breath
into the wind.


by Ben Echeverria
Written: November 24, 2014
First Published: January 9, 2019

The legs are tired,
but not the will.
The lips are cold,
but not yet still.

His life is long,
some right, some wrong.
His will to live
is still quite strong.

He takes each day
the way it comes.
The mind still clear
and filled with song.

The music sweet,
it frees the fear,
it moves the feet,
and brings a cheer.

He has no reason
to think the end.
The road well traveled
was full of bends.

Around each curve
new scenes appeared,
sometimes with laughter,
other times with tears.

A life well lived,
a mating well made.
At last he found
a friend who stayed.