Brightly Burning Deathbed

Brightly burning; an essence of joy
Humor bled through the teeth of your spirit
The laughter of Psalms poured into your shadow
Reserve bled through the teeth of your spirit

There was a small barn cowering away from the sun under elder trees
There was a path forged through the budding grass
You found God in that house
You found peace in its rooms

Disease stole the joy from your brow
Disease stole the days you held dear and clouded them with dirt

When the plaque came, we stole you away from those trees you read gospels beneath

I was too much of a coward to admit to myself that I knew you were dying
I was too much of a coward to be there for you when I knew you were dying



Credits
Writer(s): Wounds Recollection
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