Franklin J. Warren

1926 / Prescott, Arizona


Sunset's are varied in so many ways,
Sometimes only the beauty stays,
Long enough for one to appreciate,
The finality for that date!

Until the morning brings,
Light and sound as the bird sings,
A sound of joy and of space,
Letting all know it is his place!

Each day follows another until,
The Grim Reaper is at the till,
Preparing for one's last Sunset,
Planting you firmly you can bet!

With it goes all the beauty and joy,
From manhood and back to boy,
That was garnered during your span,
That stretched from boy to man!

Yet each of humanity seems to think,
There may be something else instead of brink,
Of nothingness when we die,
Then to soil and decaying lie!

No Deity would treat his own,
As if they were just a pawn,
in some divine ultimate goal,
Striving to save their soul!
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