Death in life

I wrote to death with a passionate cool ,
Thinking she was kind and true,
That she'll go easy on the dying part,
Now being the biggest fool,
I bragged acquaintance and gift,
A scar,  a few traumatic dreams -
Ignoramus, not knowing quite,
It seldom is what seems right.
The last is never too lightly past,
A path of jagged stones, and stormy sky,
A crumbling bridge grown with heather high,
Thistle and moss and death of hope,
Where the branched shadow of the Yew,  spreads calmness like a woven pall, beaded with tears,
On the suffering,  supplicant eyes, now grown mute,
That will not trace the familiar landscape no more,
But Requiscat in pace et in amore.

Acceptance

Almost too hard to attain, a rocky desert,
Where even the hammer of pain slows down,
To a faint throbbing measure;
Your heart,  struggling against the ceaseless currents,
Suddenly finds itself becoming a sturdy pebble.
Atoms neatly bound in peace,
Calmly bear the corrosive waves,
Sans moss, sans engraved lines,
Reflecting on wisdom and grace, 
Ascetic, calm and true.

My love

I love you more than all your kisses,
I love you more than time,
I love to love you above all,
I need no reason or rhyme.

I love you most my sweet sweet cherry,
I can't ever bid you goodbye,
Though the bough breaks and hopes end,
To leave you is to die.