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Poetry By StarFields

Ashes To Ashes

Making love to you
is like a stately
funeral procession,
six black stallions,
satin sombre glory
and blood red roses.

The world stands still
as we proceed,
slow march,
one direction,
no escape.

It doesn't help
to turn away
and to pretend
this isn't real.

The mourners in their finery
assemble now around our bed
their faces white,
their eyes devoid of tears,
the worst has come to pass
and now, there are no longer
any fears remaining here.

Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,
come I will,
and come I must.

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