thanksgiving poem

since i have felt the sense of death
i think it just splendid
beneath my window in a city street
daughter, thou art come to die
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
the sun is up
beneath the warrior's helm
into the silent land
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
sun stepped down from his golden throne
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
the earth keeps some vibration going
often i think of the beautiful town