Actually, I think it's a lovely conceit: death (or seeing the face of God, if you want a Christian interpretation, which lots of poetry seems to demand, ugh) as an appointment. But I almost feel as though there needs to be another stanza....
I know. and normally I don't post until it's something I'm satisfied with...
but the fact is it's derivative of so many other work that it almost makes me want to cry. so I stopped and I'm letting it lay there until I need to pick it up again.
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but the fact is it's derivative of so many other work that it almost makes me want to cry. so I stopped and I'm letting it lay there until I need to pick it up again.
so, cross your fingers.
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Fingers crossed, lovely.
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