This is a poem/song I used to be obsessed with... I found it in a random library book during a poetry project in 8th grade. I hope you enjoy it just as much as I did! The poet really does deserve the credit :)
The Last of the Wine
I lie here in a hundred small ways
From voices calling my name down nameless hallways
And the clock keeps ticking eating up the time
And I'm down to the last of the wine
My stomach growling at the movement my hand makes
I'm reaching out toward the disappearing hand shapes
And the room keeps turning slowly in my mind
And I'm down to the last of the wine
And I crawl on my belly through the night
And the dream of dying in the sunlight.
As unseen shadows in the burning start to harden
I rise up singing to the angel in my garden.
Some dark and different angel of another kind
And I'm down to the last of the wine.
And the angel never taught me to pray
And I die with the dying of the day.
Rod McKuen
Let's all give a round of applause (and votes) for Rod McKuen!! Rod, if you're reading this, you are a wonderful artist that deserves more attention :)
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