Another poem about death

Words come and go
the phone rings
I sit here

I read the newspaper
drink some coffee
watch the trees
the phone rings

I seep deeper into the recliner
I sit and wait
I'm waiting for death
waiting for life

The fridge is open
the tree starts swaying
the coffee gets cold
the phone rings

People come and go
bills as well
the tree keeps swaying
yet, I keep waiting

The recliner breaks
I get ill
is it time?
Have I waited long enough?

I get sicker
laying in a broken house
the tree keeps swaying
I die.
The phone rings.
The End

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