Death will come

Death will come on sunny, happy morning
when me and my friends will be at home
laughing,singing,playing the guitar
remember the good old times that we lived
and longing for new ones.

Death will knock on my door,as he is a gentleman
and he will be dressed in fine leather-as an aristocrat
he will be handsome-beauty conceals sins and malice
and he will trick me with his fine looks.

Death will come on a cold,misty night
when I will be alone, reading poetry
poking the fire,making dreams
remembering all those beautiful friends and lovers
that have come and gone, all through my life
and I will be staring out of the window,hoping
that some stranger will talk to me.

Death will be playing music, on my doorstep
sweet violin,fine harmonica,depressed clarinet
and I, enchanted by the angelic music
I will open the door and he will pull out his hand
to ask for money, to beg for some coins.

And I will silently die, charmed by the fine beauty,the angelic malice.



Poetry by Eva
Read 758 times
Written on 2010-04-02 at 21:49

Tags Death 

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