Death Is Apon Us
Death is an eternal sleep.
Death is a black rose in the sea of agony.
Silence may be sweet if you're a solitude sibling.
The black rose drifts away.
Drifts into the stormy sea of despair.
Blackness surrounds you as you drift into the darkness.
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Comments about this poem (Death Is Apon Us by Tina Mills )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(10 February 1970-)
(27 December 1797 – 15 February 1869)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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