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This gray October dawn is not dark,
The trees have stolen the sun's glory.
Reds and golds brightening the clouds,
Tempered with deep greens, a depth
To the bright quilt which covers the hills.

Would that my twilight be as bright,
To have my final moments shout towards Heaven.
Mocking Death with a beauty so bold,
I must prepare for one glorious battle, to say
My final statement - This Is Life!

Then I'd gently remove myself from the fire,
Quieting my colors 'til they resemble the Earth,
Releasing my hold from the family around me,
Catching the wind...

...To softly journey to my grave.


lj, 1998



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