Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Withering sight

Emaciated, he looked gaunt,
His past continued to haunt,
His vile deeds of the yore,
Gnawed at his innermost core.
Decomposing his life gone by,
He awaited his verdict with a sigh,
His few remaining days on earth,
Of love, there was a dearth.
Repentance, it crossed his mind,
‘Too little, too late’, he resigned,
No one else will ever come to know,
To the grave, he will take his woes.