For life is but frail, it may quickly fade
Promises, to abide, promises to restore
Promises that promise like nothing before..
Death, be only the best kept promise
Till Death do us part,solemnly said.
How rarely meant. Like a heartfelt kiss
Till it all does end on Death’s bed…
What words men use, to rend, to repair
What promises, to bend backwards, words so rare..
Words, these are but words,just wisps in the air
What value we give them, we think they be fair…
Till Death comes calling, riding his steed
Words all but forgotten, all bondage freed
Some promises get away, scot free, some stay behind
Some promises were a certainty, some kept us blind…