Death Doesn'T Mourn
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I met him a long, long time ago,
denim clad and dusty leather boots
sitting astride a motorcycle
He took off his helmet; I stumbled
only to stop dead on my hazed tracks
and crashed in his ocean sapphire eyes.
Scattered bouquets flowers wallpaper,
soft silky satin and remnant dreams.
Parched lilies quivers upon his grave
and falls arched over where it now laves
along with till dirt in the hot sun.
Death doesn't mourn, but devours lovely things
To savor every drop of anguish
and narrate the final threads of life
with a blithe attitude toward death.
5/17/2018
Poetry Contest: Best Free Verse Poem in May 2018'
Sponsored By: Laura Loo
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2018
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