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On My Death Bed

Spring time,
Evening shadows
Where the working nights
Slumber before the waking dew.
Not the dew I shot
From the bartender hot,
But the waking broth
Of the milked cow
Upon my lips now to I rot.
Somber drips,
Not receiving what I once sowed
For a drought of crops
With no fruit sold,
But reaping what was
Not mine to forever hold,
But of that of the grim reaper
For flesh is but a shadow
Of things to come steeper.
So I pray like a nun
And seek the joy
That has yet to come undone.
To the everlasting I sow.
Don't doubt Jesus the Son,
Ponder what the grim reaper can't take,
Living light in the Son.
Live life for God's sake,
For God is awake with every dawn
And sees every lawn.
On my death bed I sow and am gone.

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Submitted on August 21, 2014

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Ronald Bunch Claim this poet

Single. I'm currently a volunteer at the Salvation Army and I do work for Habitat Humanity. I like to go to church every day and run six days a week. I train for marathons and I finished my first novella.I have a passion for sharing and writing poetry. My poems also appear on YouTube under Ronald Bunch. Follow me on Twitter at @BunchRonald more…

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    "On My Death Bed" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 24 Sep. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/80868/on-my-death-bed>.

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