Death’s Cold Mist.

Posted by Stan M Rogers on July 30, 2018
Posted in: Uncategorized. Leave a comment

Think of me.
In case I go
Some dark horizon beckoning
For some days it comes closer
But my heart is always with you
Even in deaths cold mist
My memory fading
My words becoming fainter
… with my voice
My image with you but my touch no more
… upon you.
But still I will be with you
Whispering faintly my endearments to you
Echoing in corridors of your mind
Think of me in that light summer breeze
A touch.
Think of me as it gently whispers in the trees
My voice
I leave you.

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