The way is clear and not encumbered.
No shoving with my feet and labored,
breath.
I walk and smell no roses.
I feel my life instead of death.
The sky is blues and sunny.
The clouds are white and far away.
The snow is absent around about me.
I sense the absence of the snow.
It must be what Heaven will be.
No snow or ice or death.
I will kiss you all someday.
When I am there.
Gone away.
To rest.
Charles Robert Hice
Copyright ©2006 Charles Hice
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