I Make My Bed
Darkness slowly vanquishes day
Once a noon with rays of brilliance
now turns into a Stygian night
On my face are the wrinkles of time
On my flesh are tattoos of hardship
Eyes with the blurriness of age
Its time, its time to go home
The sweet prepared paradise
Made by the hands of my Father
I'm sad to leave you my love
Though you've served no perfect joy
but I can't escape natures wrath
I will miss your morning dews
I will miss your bright sunshine
Your red roses and blue violets
I will miss your festivals
Your beautiful sons and daughters
And meals of great sumptuousness
Its hard to leave you I must confess
Tears running down my face
like a cheetah's tribal mark
I make my bed to lie and rest
Though willing is the spirit
but weak is the wrinkled flesh
I'm close to my destination
And no amount of emotion
can take me back or keep me longer
When I peep through my windows
I can see the picture of home
Where life is but a bunch of joy
For now you can weep and wail
But we shall meet someday
where you will never weep again
Copyright © King Adams | Year Posted 2019
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