Days of my DashAs one would perceive the words upon a page,
a similar rythme flows throughout the book I write,
although my heart is inconsistent with coming age,
thus, the beating of my drum shall never be trite,
but do not doubt history's repitition,
for every day holds a common acquisition,
and though I am to have decisions I must choose,
the theme I follow still has its predisposition.
How is it that this story should end my Muse?
As the choices that come to pass inscribe my resolution.
Shall they ensure that I must request absolution,
or should my fortunes immortalize my imagination?
As my time to live begins to expire,
I have a single request as I tire.
Record the final days of the dash upon my stone,
and allow nothing to be left with my bones.
Poetry by Joshua Coggins
Read 678 times
Written on 2006-05-17 at 22:30
Tags Life  Death  Good
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