Deadly Still Poem by Gert Strydom
Deadly Still
Too white and bleak was your face,
too lifeless you countenance.
your intense blue eyes closed
with no pulse beating in your heart.
They crossed your hands over your breast.
Your hands could not touch me anymore,
could hold no poetry book or rose
and far too silent and still you did rest.
© Gert Strydom
Thursday, January 18, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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4/27/2024 11:09:03 PM # 1.0.0.1119
