An Ode To Death
I waited the winter, long and cold and you never came.
I waited with spring along with its flowers to bring---you never came.
I waited all summer long, hot and dry it was --you never came.
I waited through fall, its dead scattered leaves and all --you never came.
Now it is winter again, cold damp and dreary, still you have not come.
Must I linger still, and wait yet longer? Still you may not come.
Hope they say is eternal, yet have I not died?