Roses and Wine

Myriads, periods, crickets and wine.

Silver shoes polished to brightest of shine.

Warm in the winter, but cool in the day,

Oh, take me...for nothing...or put me away.

Shelter a baby, and cry for a swan.

Read the black wall, all the names of the gone.

Living so long when you age by the day,

And your death was a memory, miles away.

I serve my own master, his name is as mine.

But I stopped loving roses, and drinking the wine.

Only silence shall greet me, when last I can sleep.

All alone in my drifting, to Heaven so deep.

I've written these words for you...now...not to know,

But remember me, silent, once I live below.

My dying a pleasure, an end to the pain.

Though, in living, I...sadly...continue to gain.