BY DR. AGONSON
His gentle hands will lay me down
into my coffin all alone.
His loving kiss won’t change my frown—
I’ll smile when I’m only bone.
But I do love him still in death
and would exchange comforts with him,
would breathe in deep his sobbing breath—
but no more breaths says reaper grim.
My heart beats not, but still can break,
can break with his who made it beat
for love the grave can never take—
Love, I know, none can defeat.
For now, the wounds are fresh and red,
his streaming tears mix with my blood,
but there’s a mercy for the dead—
a seed must die to sprout and bud.
Tale Told 