Living In Poetry

I remember most
Your aimless smile
How you listened intently
At the odds and ends
Of my written words
You

Dying

My last breath left me, death's presence entered the room.

Grabbing me with his cold hands, trying to take me to his

Freshly turned, crumbling sod,
now marks this solemn spot.
Sodden soil, an open wound,
that only time, can soothe.

Muddy footprints,

~Whispering Shadows~


Whispering shadows
lament my demise
Come to life
as the moon
does rise

Viewing my body
in the still, night

It's time

The old man with peppered hair stirs,
His sleep interrupted.
His wrinkled brow beads with cold sweat,
And knotted