Another bell of mourning tolls;
There goes my final friend.
Just then, a peal of thunder rolls;
I wait for it to end.

The cooing of a pigeon breaks
The silence which ensues –
As if to say, For heaven’s sakes,
It’s time for you to choose.

I think I’d like to travel Greece
Or move to northern Spain.
And yet I find I’m most at peace
While walking in the rain.

It’s not like me to be this dour;
Another bell, though, strikes the hour.

Photo by Gilles Rolland-Monnet on Unsplash

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