the curse of the autumn rose
it sits there mostly indisposed
the patience that is death
awaits us without detection
carries on like a muted songbird
in the endless dream
death is nothing to be feared
the ancient moon cycling peripherally
offering to keep you near
nothing is left behind
for death is indiscriminate
& those who mourn
shall always be mourned
& they who stay forever cursed
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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