Choir Poem by gary polonsky
Choir
Everybody owes God a death,
The Laws of Obligation so beqeth.
I shan't predict how little or how late.
What's the point? All is simply fate.
So here I sit, my lover strumming near
While high above, a song bird also hears
And joins right in, a chorus near and yon,
I pray my fate is yet to linger on.
Written at Courtice, Ontario - 28th July 2020
Sunday, August 2, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: death,love
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5/16/2024 9:55:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
