Letters to a Dying Breed

At rest, so cold, so grey

Your final breath, I hear you pray

A heartbeat, but it's only my own

Crying already, because it knows, as I do.

There's time only now for a final word

As I bid goodbye, and I hope you heard

It's hard to tell, your eyes are closed

Your lids are grey

Did you hear me say?

I'll write to you

Even though

No mail can go

Where you are now

I hope you're happy there

Are the gardens as green as they are here?

Could the music of the angels be so sweet

As the sound of your steady, strong heatbeat?

I miss you already

But done is this deed

To sentance to death

A dying breed

The End

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