Four Days (a poem)

It was four days before they found me,
The water cold,
A still crimson pond,
The air heavy with decay.

It was four days before I could leave,
My spirit cold,
Watching, and waiting,
To be released from this world.

And so they came,
And they spoke in hushed tones,
And they lifted me up,
The water drained,
As if I were a newborn,
Carefully, clinically,
Gently.

It was four days before they found me,
The room cold,
And then I could go,
At last released from this world.