Cold

Slowly, my dear, down this path we walk.

Death is cold;

We do not balk.

Death is death

And nothing more.

Slowly, my dear, down this path we walk.

The way is far, but near, my dear.

Death is truth;

Nothing to fear.

Death is death

And nothing less.

The way is far, but near, my dear.

My dear, the way is harsh, but soft.

Death is near;

Holds you aloft.

Death is death

And nothing else.

My dear, the way is harsh, but soft.

Far, my dear, we must go.

This path is long;

No time to slow.

Death is death

And nothing new.

Far, my dear, from me to you.