" The Inevitable Tide by Stewart Stafford

The inevitable tide comes,
To claim every one of us,
Whether sufficient breath of life,
Is inhaled deep or forsaken.

Then let them bend and screech,
Their hearsay and homilies,
To rake the ashes of earthly remains,
In our final resting place.

The person no longer lingers,
Gone to Paradise or Hell,
Purgatory or mere rotting decay,
A ghostly rose bled white on binding soil.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved. "

― Stewart Stafford