Soft the shroud, carressing flesh,
that once knew warmth, that once knew life.
Death sings a chorus of the autumn,
falling leaves and shadows rife.
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If someone had taken this poem and printed a Classic poets name on it I would have accepted it with no question whatsoever. This is amazing Laurie, just like you. Susan
Wonderful write Laurie, it is soft and gentle and yes we are just passing through, only on this earth for a short while, thank you for this, 10 Lynda xx