Death
Death dug deep, satiated by the leave,
Clover leaf fell from its tree of normality,
Not touching it, I cogently allowed it to occupy,
That location it did choose for my morose dirge.
Related to, I gently stretched and bent down,
To feel that smoothness in my empty hand,
Of that four-leafed symmetry symbol, shaking,
Under the ravish of death’s recumbent hook.
Humdrum around, i did continue on with my script,
To undertake that process most universal and true,
Because nature did look upon me to neatly suggest,
That relationship, the assistance I’d given glut fine.
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