She was born in the year
I came here
To live and work.
She will thrive when time’s scythe
Has ended me.
I feel no jerk
Of sudden fear
Of the Reaper as he draws near.
I have felt lust
And feared dust.
But today I simply say my goodbye
And accept that I
Will, one day die.
The train moves on.
She is gone.
And I will do my work today.
Quite sad, Kevin, although true. Life goes on after we are no longer here.
I’m pleased you like my poem Vivienne. Life does indeed go on when we are gone. May I wish you a very happy Christmas. All the very best. Kevin