Whispers from the window

At a younger age,
 dark thoughts going through my head,
    at night I would hear a voice,

"Don't rush it."

A little older,
  and thoughts surfacing again,
    again I would hear a voice,

"Still, not the time."

More years pass,
  and having came to an understanding,
   feeling tired I would hear a voice,

"Not yet."

Age has withered me away,
 and I continue,
   hearing a voice,

"Soon."


Closing my eyes,
  only to be blinded.

Through the window,
  I finally see who has been talking to me,
    and I hear the words,

"Come along."

Reviews

[Matching Socks]

Is this death, or growing up?

[Jon Roggie]

A bit of both. The voice would belong to death, one waiting for the proper time.

[Matching Socks]

Very nicely done.

[Jon Roggie]

Thank you.