ANOTHER POEM

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