Death Of Roses

I used to love roses, but now I love death instead.

That's where I'm headed, that's where I'll bed.

 

I'll bed in a box when I am all good and dead.

With maybe a few dried roses mixed with dirt tossed up on top.

 

I'm not frightened and I'm not scared.

It's just the way I know it will be.

After all aren't we supposed to face reality?

 

Roses are alive, then they are dead.

I'm alive, and then I'll be next.

 

It's not horrible, in fact it's quite nice.

To know I can have both my roses and also my own sweet death.

Reviews

[Jinny]

This is such a poignant reality !
You sound like a wise Tibetan Monk who has mastered the Book of the Dead !

[Deanna]

Thank you for reading it. I am scared of death and trying to face it! I wish I was as wise as a Monk. (:

[TheLastThingYouSee]

Very dark and depressing...it's good, though :)

[Deanna]

Thank you, I'm glad you liked it. Since my nephew died in June I keep getting more and more terrified of death. Somehow, in some strange way writing about it this way is helping. I guess it's like laughing in the bogeyman's face. (:

[TheLastThingYouSee]

I'm sorry for your loss. :( I'm glad writing is helpful to you; it always helps me, too.

[Deanna]

I'm learning that writing can take you anywhere. (:

[TheLastThingYouSee]

It sure can :)

[Michael G. Smith]

Interesting poem, peaked mine. I see you're from Brandon. I drive through your town at least once a month on 471.

[Deanna]

Thank you for reading it and commenting. (: You do come close by my house, I drive on 471 almost everyday to get to work and to get to Walmart. (:

[Michael G. Smith]

Yep up on 25

[Deanna]

Most important place around here!!! (: