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To Sleep Your Last Sleep
The grass is not as beautiful
As her tired heart
The grass is not as green
As the illness in her breath
The grass is not as smooth
As her wavy, lively hair
The grass is not as wet
As she, after the rain migrates downstream
The grass is not as mischievous
As her bullet from her rifle’s mouth
The grass is not as sharp
As the grayest grays of her eyes
The grass is not as lonely
As her empty arms, stretched to the wind
The grass is not as lively
As her cabin, dead to the bone
The grass is not as plentiful
As the wisdom cinders fading out
The grass will not die soon
Like her curtain eyelids will descend
Today, oh, lawns so vast
When she closes the curtains
They close their very last
Wow, this is really deep...it's so meaningful...but I really like it.