Death
It's not so much I mourn the days that have but so sweetly passed
It's not so much I dare to speak of love that was so vast
It's not so much I yearn to see your smile just once again
But yet I ache to feel your strength, your touch, against my hand
So what then is left
You have taken all
What is there left to grieve
And so I state with no remorse, with no regret at last
Death has cast its fatal blow
Death, you can kiss my wrasse
Copyright © Zoria Gregory | Year Posted 2013
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