Winter’s Night: A Boy’s Ultimate Question About Life

Winter’s Night

It’s almost 8 on a cold winter’s night &
A young boy sits cupped in his hands
Warming on the metal lid of an air dryer –
Those with wooden poles vertically arranged
To hang light cotton on.

Mother and siblings are downstairs.

In the purple room the thought just flashed –
What is death like? He paused.

The future, looking back into the future,
There’s a grey expanse. The day is still,
While the answer creeps ever closer.

Another by Skendong: Philosophical Rambling: Your Life, Death, And Existence