Thin white line

He walk’s a narrow ,thin white line.

Tracing his steps, back in time.

Back to the time, when his life began.

And the course his life took, trying to understand.

Sitting alone, given time to reflect.

His future, his past, never knowing what to expect.

For the killing of another, filled with greed, to avenge.

A penal system that now seeks it revenge.

Its said that punishment, befits the crime.

That may be so in another place, another time.

And all thats to look forward to is THE DAY.

When they pull down the lever, and roast him away.

Yet with every day, there is with some lease of optimism.

Which all about obliterates, the previous nights pessimism.

The cell door opens, cascading rays of sunlight.

And with it comes, the news that the execution will proceed that night.

Just as sudden as the life he had taken.

The stranger he killed, he had been badly mistaken.

At 7 PM the priest enters, the cell he had known for so long as home.

The priest provides him, no comfort, he must face his maker alone.

Time is reaching for him fast.

The second hand slips round, the clock, of his unfortunate past.

Only time left, for one last gasp.

All becomes insignificant, when the limp less body cast no shadow.