“Our time in this world is limited. We all have to die. But man, who is fragile wishes- it is not now but later” ~ By Poet Death’s thunderous call I hear. See death’s messenger at my door. With icy grip, he is coming to prey. Am I nearing my journey’s end? I don’t want to go with all my dreams snuffed. I am a flower, still blooming. Please don’t rip my roots, While still searching for light. Let me dwell with my loved ones. Now, please don’t keep death’s door ajar!
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.