Final Goodbye

          “Goodbye.” I whispered to the ebbing tide. “Goodbye,” I said, “Goodbye.” The rhymes of a poem shall ne’er tell why, they shall ne’er tell why.

          “Why?” The winds question. “Why?” They all said, “Why?” When the breeze of a thousand years have all fled, shall that reason remain, that why?

          “My love, it is gone… ne’er to return. My love shall return not, aye. For as thousands have fled from their thoughts of dread, so my love shall have said Goodbye.”

          “Goodbye.” I said to the setting sun. “Goodbye,” I said, “Goodbye.” “For in thy end, there anew has begun, and so I say Goodbye.”

          But my heart was still saddened, no matter I mused at the ebbing of the tides. And still it beats to the rhythm of that tune they caught before the words Goodbye.

          The water’s a mirror as I look at my life, and silence is eerie with dread. The end of the end has come at last and I ask, “Shall this leave me dead?”

          Winter’s come early, I see in my eyes, the coldness of frost and snow. No angel there stands to offer advice, as the dark winter winds shall blow.

          The warmth of the summer has gone from my life; the warmth of the day is lost. And I shiver in sadness, in the cold winter light like a petrified statue or ghost.

          “Enough.” I mutter to my dying soul. “Enough.” I said, “Enough.” Dark fate has thus spoken, this comes unbroken, as whisper my last rebuff.