I see busy Death's work,
From the friend four feet away
To Mom, lips cold black.
In far too many absent friends,
Two in terror's pyre.
While on shockwave's path, we escaped,
With "guilty" more, Death missed.
From the friend four feet away
To Mom, lips cold black.
In far too many absent friends,
Two in terror's pyre.
While on shockwave's path, we escaped,
With "guilty" more, Death missed.
A Midwest viewing with cake.
A suicide's funeral,
Death Is not a friend to help.
With life there is Love.
The living do not forget,
Those brushed by busy Death.
Death Is not a friend to help.
With life there is Love.
The living do not forget,
Those brushed by busy Death.
"....Death's work....In far too many absent friends,....With life there is Love....busy Death" You have a wonderful way with words and your presentation of your ideas / thoughts are a treat to read.
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