A Morning For Mourning
‘Tis a morning for mourning.
Do you hear the banshee’s wail?
She shrieks of death’s warning.
Another being will be impaled.
Wooden stake goes through the heart.
Death severs consanguinities.
Yea, from here it is time to part.
Such is everyone’s destinies.
Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2012
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