Three Word Prompt Challenge: Roof, Stars, "Cold Breath."

I hear the *roof*; It's beckoning. Its siren song sounds often. I could resist it yesteryear; I see my willpow'r soften.

For Blake, the *stars* for order stood, A rigidness; a stricture. For me however, they're merely fires That give no warmth; a picture

Of ineffective loveliness, A smile with unkind eyes. One day, no doubt, I'll venture up Again beneath their skies

It's funny how, when I ascend I'll sure be near to God If I'm high up, or if I plunge Hurtling into the sod

Escaping up? Despairing down? The roof's stale, dank, *cold breath* Is on my neck. _With life like like yours,_ It says, _why_ not _try death?_

That's hard to answer, truth to tell. I'd welcome sweet relief. I long for rest. I've pour'd me out For sake of my belief

That all these beings crowded 'round Deserve my best, my love, My heartfelt thanks, my loving hugs; They're all so far above

My dingy, misbegotten self! O Hearken! Hear it call! The summertime is over now. Excuse me. Time to fall.