The Passing

"The Passing"

I see the end, upon the door,
darkness, filling every pore.

Light gone dim, bright no more,
casting shadows, days of yore.

Joyous spirit, giving heed,
sadness, taking over lead.

Life no longer, purpose filled,
furrowed fields, no longer tilled.

Garden spent, where flowers bloomed,
grass and weeds, now seem to loom.

Days now covered, hands to face,
laughter gone, with tears in chase.

Is it time, to pass the tourch,
a generation, scarred and scorched.

Sitting on, the mountain high,
graveyard looking, towards the sky.

Waiting on, the last trump call,
resting finally, celestial halls.

@ D. A. Bradley