Old Poetry
December 31st, 2002
Wither by Shadus
Wither body wither, life drains away,
longer night engulfs shorter days.
Everyone speaks of bliss to me,
I see things you appear to be.
I shall smile at the wreathes of snow,
blossoms only where roses should grow.
I shall sing of the nights decay,
when it crushes the lonely day.