i fear not death, but that the words i have spoken,
the songs i have sung, the poetry and prose i have
written will be no longer heard or be read, that my
smile will no longer be shared, mine eyes will no longer
witness the aesthetic of Nature’s canvas, my hands
and fingertips will no longer touch or feel
i fear not, that my body will no longer live life in
this mundane realm but i will regret that i will no
longer walk on riverbanks or through forests or at the
base of a mountain’s scape, listen to the aviary songs,
smell the waft of daffodils, roses, daisies and sassafras,
juniper or lavender
i do fear, though, of when my heart will no longer
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