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www.facebook.com/WRRPoetry [Upon His Death Bed]
Come son,
Come learn from my toothless gums
The ancient secret of life
And from my falling grey hairs
The stark reality of man’s feeble essence
The inevitable that his vain pride blinds him from
Until the strength is sucked from his sinews
And his habitat is his forever-sleep bed

Of an angel pure in heart
Whose pure acts geminate his seed
Yes. The same who he detests with every breath
And paints with every shade of disgust

Of this fair angel of timeless beauty
Whose graceful carriage of cold elegance
Won for eternity the Maker’s trust
My coming bride, whom you call DEATH

Have you seen the beauty of my love – Death
No one does and survives the next breath
She takes the one that the other may come
Her cold hands, deft and sure
Sooth the pain and sores off earth
And, as upon this bed I await, take heed
That she does not kiss you
Before she takes me

Written by: Benson David

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