THE DEMISE

The night turned out unusually cold
My old man's breath came out in gasps
His deadly pale face grew no better
His eye sockets were describedly a poor sensation
The owls kept hooting
Wolves kept howling
A definite significance of bad luck
A fact to the oncoming shortcomings
We cuddled against each other
Fold our arms in prayer
Let our hearts beat to the tune of the situation
Until his feet felt ice
Until he went numb
His clock stopped to tickle
Till he gracefully shut his eyes