Round Stones

One might hope that death would be like this:
I'm on the smooth round rocks which line
A silent alpine lake. The air is warm, the sky
Not blue, but hazy. No one else is near.
There are no birds or aircraft to be seen
Above the mountainsides. I sit down on
The rocks to rest. I feel their warmth.
I watch the lake, which, without wind,
Lays very still. Eternity should be like this.
I don't believe I have a soul, but, if I did,
I'd be delighted if it was transported here.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 54 times
Written on 2017-12-25 at 13:26

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