Death of a Day...

Shall I take off my shoes?

For surely this is sacred soil

As hallowed hush covers the rush

And panting of our mid-day toil

Lo, now your hour is spent

And you will be no more

You slip away to rest for aye

On past’s immortal shore

We, humble witnesses

Or arrogant and proud

Behold as one the coming down

Of heaven’s somber shroud

Across your slumb’ring form

It draws its raven veil

While we remain to drink again

The cup of life’s travail

Into the out-stretched arms

Of history’s vast tomb

Your corpse is laid; none can its hate

Or lavish love exhume

On earth’s ebony sod

The wise kneel down to pray

This moment flow will soon bestow

To each our Judgment Day

© Janet Martin