Thursday, May 20, 2010


Another Poem from my old poetry book.

 Death Is A Door

Death is only an old door
Set in a garden wall;
on gentle hinges it gives,at dusk
when the thrushes call.


Along the lintel are green leaves,
Beyond the light lies still;
Very willing and weary feet
Go over that sill.

There is nothing to trouble any heart;
nothing to hurt at all.
Death is only a quiet door
In an old wall.
                                                                        Nancy Byrd Turner


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