If my years are drawing to their end (in answer to William Shakespeare)
If you in me behold, the time of year
when things are withering
when winter draws near
and winds are getting icy cold,
in me the years are drawing to their end,
as summer is spend, I am getting old
and the endless night, is fading my last light
and every breath is drawing me closer,
closer to death and still my eyes are burning,
with a yearning, a need for your love
then as always you are true
with love springing from you:
something that may last,
be passed to the world beyond.
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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