Two Weeks Noticed

A single vulture flies over the mountain top,
Insistent on catching the dying thing that lies there,
It is weak now, all of its honour sapped from it along with its title,
Its hands are red raw from the climb but it was worth it,
For this is where it all began,
And this is where it ends,
It turns itself over and lies on its back,
Watching the vulture and wondering how long the harbinger of death would wait,
How long it would wait before it decided it was good enough to eat,
The blazing sun taught him well,
It had been there from the moment he was born,
And it was there as he passed,
A lifetime had gone by but the world was the same,
The same world that he had loved,
The same world that he had loved and lost in,
And the same world that had given him a limited time to see its beauty,
God, he saw it now,
He was practically smothered with it,
He reached into his front pocket with trembling hands,
The colour leaving his cheeks as he read,
The note that he had been left,
The two weeks notice,
But the two weeks was up now,
His job had been done,
His life made redundant,
And his legacy stagnating before him,
He thought about jumping but he was too weak,
The vulture would indeed have its way with him,
And despite the knowledge that he wouldn’t be conscious to know that moment…

It scared him.

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