Death
Come to me sweetheart
pale and wane befit your name,
yes I named you
and not just that ordinary noun.
Come not sweeping grimly
but dressed for a wedding.
I call you my 'nightingale'
my little bird of sorrow and joy.
I watch you fly in the dark and light
bewitched by time and place
life beginning on the tips of each wing.
Come to me sweetheart,
let your dress fall over my eyes,
I shall be in you then
as your lover forever,
together we shall light the lamps.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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