Death On Each 'Clear' Dawn Poem by James McLain

Chilly the air and foggy is
'Death'
what hour is this must I,
and as you go, do I.
Down again we lay
to look once more at dawn.

There is barely,
as it leaves the room
to catch it's eye
yet eye, theres room for you
look here as it for you it comes again.

I pace back and forth,
upon the path you've yet to find
and it, you find It soon.

Lost Instructions found my living will
it's leaving, left you so far behind,
to face your tender fears.

It's leaving me,
as if it were
some hidden whippoorwill.

I have come around once more
around and walking down,
you gain perhaps a foot or two.