| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Death >> ID #1149892 |
| |||||||||||||
|
The Guest
Be my guest - there you are. I can see you near - yet still far. My heart, welcomes you Sir. My thoughts! O' but a blur. What brings you to my side? Before - you sought a place to hide. Will you again tease and taunt, Use your power, or not? You are close now - "My breath!" I welcome you - O' sweet death.
© Copyright 2006 Coffeebean (UN: lastcactus at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Coffeebean has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |