The Angel of Death watches.
Persephone waits.
Mary Magdalen welcomes.
My body doesn’t belong in these tombs. Not yet.
It’s still warm and soft and golden in the light.
Juicy and just now starting to plump.
To the Virgins, to make much of Time
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.Robert Herrick (1591–1674)
oh i have been fantasying about you and my wife getting it on in the woods or grave yard that is so strange but up in maine !!!bar harbor area on isle a haute funny !