Life’s Posey

If Life should ever close her knowing eyes;
 Would Death erase her codicil of light?
 Could Life give o’r to Death in silent cries
 Of helplessness — as day becomes the night?
Oft times there runs a melancholic blight
 To sap the vigor of a pleasant day —
 What’s in a name? To know by any hight
 These many wretched thoughts that find their way.
Yet in the dark recesses — Life’s bouquet?
 A nosegay gathered from our simple past,
 Reminds us in our age, the need to play:
 To live, enjoy; what’s now can never last.
Will you, this tiny posy’s scent adore?
 Or seek the stench of false blooms evermore.
 
Ferrick Gray
© 2017
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