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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1682676
The nearness of death to us all
Death, stay away, I am not ready.
I could always see you over my shoulder,
Not far behind, but steady
In your pursuit, now getting bolder.

You see me staggering beneath my load,
And slowing down, grow quite weary.
I find it harder to stay on my road,
All the world round looks so dreary.

I have things to do; lives to affect.
I’ve unfulfilled dreams and schemes.
I have work enough to fill the time left.
Let me earnestly finish my themes.

Stay further behind me, if you don’t mind.
Do not overtake me just yet.
I won’t fight when we reach the end,
But will surrender into your net.

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