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The Decider

The Decider

I stepped into the river
It was wet and it was cold
My bones began to shiver
Just like I had been told

I stepped deeper in the river
And it didn’t get any better
I felt my body quiver
And my clothes were getting wetter

I kept descending deeper
And it didn’t feel so nice
I’m a plodder, not a leaper
But it felt as cold as ice

I continued on my quest
My parents did not raise a quitter
I would not fail this test
But the chill was getting bitter

I did not question why
As hypothermia numbed my brain
I’m not the kinda’ guy
Who is threatened by mere pain

They found my body on the shore
No more frigid quests for me
No more chances to explore
No more Brave New Worlds to see

It is true that I am dead
And it’s too late for revisions
But it never can be said
That I don’t stand by my decisions

by Richard W. Bray

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This entry was posted on April 15, 2010 at 6:51 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.