Contributor: Ken Allan Dronsfield

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I think I died today.
Staring at the bare walls;
a knife, a fork, a bottle and
candle lay before me.
The raucous sounds of blaring horns,
screeching brakes and people shouting;
all rise up from the sweltering streets
below, through my open window.
The smells and hell of the city
permeate the entire room and
the fan in the corner quit a day ago;
but, I think I died today.
I laid on the old mattress,
sweat running down my face.
I dozed off and awoke
in a field of green grass,
with white crosses all about.
I stood and watched friends of old
toss roses of red into the dark hole,
landing upon a casket. I think I'm there,
tucked inside wearing my dark gray suit,
white shirt and hated tie...Oh yes,
I think I died today, I just don't know why.


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Ken Allan Dronsfield is a Published poet/author/digital artist from Oklahoma. He enjoys writing, walks and his cats, Merlin and Willa.