This End of Life

Will this, then, be the harvest this life bring?
A few sweet words, read a few people by
A song or two no one still wish to sing
Many an unremembered lullaby

Sung to a child I fed rather than eat
Yet grew to one who in every exchange
Takes great care upon me to wipe her feet
And for her children do the same arrange

Waiting for me to just a little weaker be
That she may tighten despotic control
Over the smile she can’t squeeze out of me
Hoping at last to see me less than whole

Sufficient terror’s reign establish to —
This end of life takes on so dim a view

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