The creep of death, likened to a knife
slices silently through the barrier of life
a door between here and there slides to
and now your life stands in the divide

The boil of doubt bites, begins to simmer
for a stain has now plied from your soul
the morning after, in quite stares, ponder
what, what if, why, when, how, not now!

When I die I want to lay in a bed of roses
in a rented open casket, before I burn
To spread my ashes in a rose garden
blooming in scents, from a golden urn

Life is poetic, death is invincible justice
for life can’t last forever,  as does death
life is a gift, a trial time spent, breathing
between our heartbreaks and triumphs

Between babies eyes, and Decembers
in our first steps, and our falling downs
folding hands in changing seasons of time
in memories shadow, life is remembered

BB2015