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Dear Death
December 9, 2015
Dear Death
lately I've been thinking,
A lot about you,
I think this might be strange,
But its what we all do,
I hear you sit high above,
With your scythe in hand,
Watching,
Waiting,
Listening,
Mysterious and grand,
now death if I may,
I'm going to be frank,
How many of my roses
Are you going to yank.
Before you realize,
that maybe,
life has some meaning,
-sincerely a friend
© Tatyana Z., Norwood, MA
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