Death is
To let go
Of the grass
To enter afterlife.
Death is
A heart's last beat
A lung's last breath
An eye's final closing.
Death is
To reach for the stars
And finally
Make it.
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YOU ARE READING
The Weeping Willow
PoetryThe weeping willow is bent with grief. It's seen sorrow, it's seen death. . .-from "The Weeping Willow"
