by Gary Pruett

Created on: March 26, 2008

FADING MEMORIES

If death be cold, come swift and bold,
And lay its icy hand
Across my brow, "Oh, Death, be now!"
I'm tired of this land.

This land so green with a wondrous sheen,
So charming and so pure,
Has laid me low with a heavy blow
For which there is no cure.

I roamed this land with gun in hand,
Ready to take a life.
I never balked, nor gave a thought
That maybe it's not right.

The golden glow, as the sun sinks low,
O'er the verdant hills.
The ships in the bay, in their stately gray,
Suddenly give me chills.

Memories fade of that day in the glade,
When love was just beginning.
Now my blood's in the dust, the color of rust,
My life is at its ending.

All the colors I see will never more be,
Everything's turning to gray.
Day turns to night, there'll be no more light
To show me the homeward way.

In flickers of lace, I see your sweet face,
A vision so endearing.
In rapture I gaze through a heavenly haze,
And know that my time is nearing.

I never dreamed that dying
Could be so awe-inspiring.

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