Come walk with me awhile
Let us hold hands
In my footsteps beguiled
When I walk one last time
For’st to make one last Rhyme
One last time my Story told
For’st for me the bell whilst toll
Author’s Note: Be there at my death, which likely unannounced, might’st occur, such whilst telling a story. Hold my hand as I pass to still, if you will, I trust. It’s not all that joyful to leave behind, my journeys and time, my people and rhyme. But if I must, I will. I will leave them all, leave them aside, for new adventures I’m promised on the other side.🙏
Poetry often flows, right into prose. It’s just a wink, the way poets think.
tom tenbrunsel
Poet Laureate of my Domain
Lots of comments from this poem, mostly am I healthy and all. Just want to assure you all that I’m quite healthy and happy in my mountain home. It is the poet’s desire to raise intensity in the reader. This one shook the foundation within the Author’s Poetic Notes. It sort of got to me too, as if I were there indeed. Poet’s write about emotion, feelings and death often. It‘s what we do. No I plan to be around for a good long time, if not to just see if the creek don’t rise. Thanks for y’all’s comments and concerns.