Moment Of Death

This was done as a free write for my Lit. class about sense and dying.

I laid my hand upon her arm-
and knew she felt not the cold
but a warmth of acceptance-
when bitter reality be gone-
She saw but the doors-
fly wildly open
and a rising in the wind-
the soft angelic voice-
breathe her name again.
She glides through the doors-
with a grace-
she could not muster in life-
and watched as imortality
stripped her of her strife-
The taste in her mouth
turned from bitter to sweet-
like honey whispered promises
after a vigorous feat.
The joy how it hang in the air
as bitter thoughts did flee-
spring's blossomed scent rose all about her
in this moment
such beauty be!