sad death poem

behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
i can not tell you now
weak-winged is song
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
when you come tonight
i despise my friends more than you
in the dark and peace of my final bed
with her hair flaying wildly
the stars fell from heaven
among the mountains i wandered