DEATH Poem: “Rumbling Pop”, by BK Haynes

A rumbling pop rattles my windows;
it makes my heart drop down to my toes.

“When will you stop being scared?”
He asks with a true, concerning stare.

“When he is gone, and his wheels turn no more;
when his motor doesn’t run, and he is on the floor!”

A fist, a fight; a flash of memory,
my body exceeds my height, slowly and quickly.
Every day, there is something, running me into replay;
every day at least one thing of him, ruining my day.

A rumbling pop shakes my soul,
Until the news drops,
He has been dragged to the “down below.”