I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of
sleeping Children.
Memory of old tombs, Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge.
The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face. They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.
By Maya Angelou
September 8, 2017 at 4:09 am
Thank you for sharing this, wonderful.
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September 8, 2017 at 5:49 am
My pleasure, glad you enjoyed it 🙂
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September 8, 2017 at 6:05 am
Amazing!
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September 8, 2017 at 7:59 pm
Thank you 😊
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September 12, 2017 at 6:49 pm
Miss her deeply what an amazing woman
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September 12, 2017 at 7:07 pm
She certainly was.
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