Soft were her words
As she guided me through Hell
I listened to each detail
That she felt the need to tell
Gentle was her touch
As she brought me to my death
I clutched her hand so tightly
As I drew in my last breath
Sure was her gait
As she walked by my side
I choked upon my words
And my fear, attempted to hide
Knowing was her gaze
As we walked on through the flame
And when she held me near
I knew I'd never live again
I think this is real poetry but I need someone to help me understand it. Thank you. Bill Grace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ah, this surely seems the 'sweetest death'.well written. Ashish.