Death Poem by david lessard

death, to me you are
no barricade,
you are cold arms,
welcoming me;
you are cold lips,
kssing me;
you are some unknown masquerade,
silencing me forever with your breath,
into a world no mortal man can see.
death, you are
no wall of stone,
you are the last slice of
day old pizza,
you are the leftover
from what's left over;
you are nothing
that I do condone,
perhaps you are
a bed of clover.
(that'd be nice)
I do not fear you,
because I know you not,
you are the diminishing
rays of sun;
you are the last dropp
of water I drink,
after my final race is run,
when I no longer think.
death, you are a figment
of the mind,
yesterday's news, old obituarys
that one never reads;
decaying paper,
blowing in the winds of time.
nothing that anybody needs.