Creative Writing

Death Has Made Me a Bed of Lilies

by Gwendolyn Armstrong

Death has made me a bed of lilies,

Soft to rest my head,

Death has reached his hand to hold me,

And with his ring we wed.

Death has never been untrue,

His reason always pure, 

His path an ever winding road,

That led straight to my door. 

Life has often come to greet him,

Beat him with disdain,

But Life is weak and fights no longer

For Death will always reign.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s