The strength of its power and its grip on my hand?
With fingers so cold, I cannot control
It arrives at my station
And is ready to depart
There’s nothing to stop it
Because it’s blocking my path
In all of my sorrows
I’m filled with regret
wondering how I can make a protest
Unsure if my voice will ever be heard
I just haven’t finished
What I came here to do
So there’s no time to dither, cry or to rest
It’s making me realise that
Death is a stalker that no one can see
That comes without notice without an invite
I’ll never be ready to handle the fright
So I’m resigned to the thought
That death cannot be fought
Death.Copyright(c) Maryann Bosah 2020.All rights reserved
In memory of Charles,Ethel and Louis
MARYANN BOSAH 