Come walk with me awhile,

Let us hold hands,

In my footsteps beguiled,

When I walk one last time,

For’st to make one last Rhyme,

One last time my Story told,

For’st for me the bell whilst toll.

Author’s Note: Be there at my death, which likely unannounced, might’st occur, such whilst telling a story. Hold my hand as I pass to still, if you will, I trust. It’s not all that joyful to leave behind, my journeys and time, my people and rhyme, and will. But if I must, I will. I will leave them all, leave them aside, for new adventures I’m promised on the other side.🙏

Poetry often flows, right into prose. It’s just a wink, the way poets think.

tom tenbrunsel

Poet Laureate of my Domain

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