DICKINSON
(all that powderpuff stuff)
I would not stop for Death, so Death
kindly stopped for me. All the rest, if you
have it committed, is a memory too lethal to
bring joy. She wrote in shadows and on the lam;
little papers and a cribbed tight hand. Silence was in her
closet. The weave of her fabric, a deadly, somber black.
-
I wouldn't know what to say if I met her today.
Rivals for affection? Seekers of the same old Truth?
Who's to say, or nod and agree? Not me. I'd remain as
silent as could be. 'Nice to meet you. This is me.'
(all that powderpuff stuff)
I would not stop for Death, so Death
kindly stopped for me. All the rest, if you
have it committed, is a memory too lethal to
bring joy. She wrote in shadows and on the lam;
little papers and a cribbed tight hand. Silence was in her
closet. The weave of her fabric, a deadly, somber black.
-
I wouldn't know what to say if I met her today.
Rivals for affection? Seekers of the same old Truth?
Who's to say, or nod and agree? Not me. I'd remain as
silent as could be. 'Nice to meet you. This is me.'
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