Moments Before the Fall
A lonely church on a hill
From afar a whip-poor-will
Moments in a ticking clock
As I take my final walk
Mighty oaks are standing tall
Vivid colors of the Fall
Rustling leaves the only sound
As we near my resting ground
Where I'll wake they cannot know
On this road they cannot go
Solemn faces, mourners cry
As I'm carried shoulder high
Copyright © Randy Freie | Year Posted 2024
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