Seasoned Death Poem by Elspeth CowperAndrew

Pale as bleached, blank sheets he sighs
While baby swallows swoop the skies
Defying his bodies haste to die
He feels spring breezes pass on by

Pain, intense as sun's blistering heat
Trying to fight his slurred, soft speech
Memories spead like sand under feet
His mind is fading, his body weak

A face that falls like autumn leaves
Concience bare as silver birch trees
Like the robin, he takes his final feed
Hibernating all that he's achieved

Like a frost, his withered face has become
A sign that life must trundle on
The blizzard of snow comes a dawn
Like the seasons, he has come and gone