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Literature Text
Death Collects</u>
52 – Old</i>
10-11-09
Death walks our east wing,
Scythe ready
To reap my father's soul.
In every whistle of the wind
Death whispers my father's name,
Calling him further and further
Into the land where we cannot follow.
The sun forms shadows
In a life that was once bright.
Death walks this castle;
He has come to collect his due.
52 – Old</i>
10-11-09
Death walks our east wing,
Scythe ready
To reap my father's soul.
In every whistle of the wind
Death whispers my father's name,
Calling him further and further
Into the land where we cannot follow.
The sun forms shadows
In a life that was once bright.
Death walks this castle;
He has come to collect his due.
Suggested Collections
No, there is nothing wrong with my father. This was written as part of the book I am attempting to write and the father in there is dying.
100 Themes
100 Themes
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