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The Unwelcome Dance Of Death

Poetry By: Scribblings of a middle aged mad man

The time when an elderly woman must surrender to the call of death

Submitted:Dec 1, 2007    Reads: 237    Comments: 1    Likes: 6   

The salt within her tears, stings deep her ageing cheeks

Her eyes canvas sorrow and bitter cold, is the wind outside

An open fire, slaves heat and orchestrates peace

Her ears note the snap of burnt wood on ceramic brick

Reciting a prayer, fear remains un-swallowed in her fragile throat

She's been scared before, but before, noted a thick wax of paranoia

This is new, an increased swelling, that bruises her narrow future

The hands of existence which usually tick freely

Are frozen and express rust with apprehension

The flickering shadow is the unwelcome dance of death

And consumption is the toll, a heart beat in rhythm must cease

One last glance at the precious silver framed photographs

Black and white memories she knows will host eternal dreams

Then a warm breeze delivered by a distant yet caring God

Extinguishes her faint candle, limp her eyelids close

She must climb an unlit staircase and take her place in rest

No longer is it winter outside, a duvet of love awaits


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