Death Is A Door Poem by Nancy Byrd Turner
Death Is A Door
Death is only an old door
Set in a garden wall
On gentle hinges it gives, at dusk
When the thrushes call
Along the lintel are green leaves
Beyond the light lies still;
Very willing and weary feet
Go over that sill
There is nothing to trouble any heart;
Nothing to hurt at all.
Death is only a quiet door.
In an old wall.
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10/14/2024 3:24:42 PM # 1.0.0
My late son, Ray Vincent Adams, put this poem to music in memory of a dear friend who had passed away.