Pack away the flowers

You were my compass,
the north to my south.
I would give this world
For one more kiss from your mouth.
To drink your taste,
To feel your embrace,
To dance my fingers reverently
Across the ridges of your face.
I want to press my heart against yours,
To not suppress this grief that within me roars.
What would I give
For your hand in mine?
To have your scent with mine entwine.
Pack away the flowers,
Put away the sun
The grim reaper has come.
Death has won.

Kim Congram © 2018


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