These withered fingers

These withered fingers

                wither off to sleep

and slip sweet silence

                further off the deep.

so let my cool weary head

                fall failing frail

no more great struggles

                on this night avail.

That cool sweetness;

                slender shining grass

reminds of days gone by

                and memories past

and in this crisp moment

                of tender bliss

render to nostalgic

                mind sweet rest.