Comes the Last Time by Steven Bruce
Comes the last time
to hear the ocean’s
serene roar.
To see the mountain peak
looming through the fog.
To laugh with a friend
while rolling down a hill.
To feel warm sand slip
through your fingers.
Comes the last time
to whistle a tune towards
the blue evening sky.
To feel the rough road
underneath your feet.
To watch the shy moon
go sailing by.
To find animals
in the idle clouds.
Comes the last time
to ball fresh snow
in your hands.
To feel wild rain
pawing at your skin.
To hear the bleak wind
howl beyond the trees.
To smell the fragrance
of sweet spring blossoms.
Comes the last time
to listen to your favourite
composition.
To read the final sentence
of that book you adore.
To watch the last scene
of that film you love.
To taste the final morsel
of your favourite meal.
Comes the last time
to kiss your partner, delicate,
on the neck and mouth.
To wake up with each
other in a warm bed.
To tell yourself that love
is a game of Russian roulette
wherein a single chamber
lies empty
and, still,
you are courageous
enough to pull the trigger.
Comes the last time
to say that today could be
our last day on earth.
Sooner or later,
we’ll be right.
to hear the ocean’s
serene roar.
To see the mountain peak
looming through the fog.
To laugh with a friend
while rolling down a hill.
To feel warm sand slip
through your fingers.
Comes the last time
to whistle a tune towards
the blue evening sky.
To feel the rough road
underneath your feet.
To watch the shy moon
go sailing by.
To find animals
in the idle clouds.
Comes the last time
to ball fresh snow
in your hands.
To feel wild rain
pawing at your skin.
To hear the bleak wind
howl beyond the trees.
To smell the fragrance
of sweet spring blossoms.
Comes the last time
to listen to your favourite
composition.
To read the final sentence
of that book you adore.
To watch the last scene
of that film you love.
To taste the final morsel
of your favourite meal.
Comes the last time
to kiss your partner, delicate,
on the neck and mouth.
To wake up with each
other in a warm bed.
To tell yourself that love
is a game of Russian roulette
wherein a single chamber
lies empty
and, still,
you are courageous
enough to pull the trigger.
Comes the last time
to say that today could be
our last day on earth.
Sooner or later,
we’ll be right.
Steven Bruce is a poet, writer, and award-winning author. His poetry and short stories have appeared in magazines, webzines, and anthologies worldwide. In 2018, he graduated from Teesside University with a Master's Degree in Creative Writing. He is the recipient of the Indies Today Five-star Recommendation Badge. Born in the North of England, he now lives and writes full-time out of an apartment in Barcelona.
