Death


Death was a stranger;
We knew not his name.
Uninvited, unexpected,
Silently, he came.
We knew not of his entry;
He swept soft as the wind.
No noise was heard, no footsteps felt;
Somehow, he made it in.
Not a rustle from his cloak,
Nor a whisper from his mouth.
We suspected not his presence
As he drew the last breath out.
In that final moment,
Death's victory had been won.
Taking as his souvenir,
The life of our new son.
We saw a peaceful countenance,
No sorrow for us there.
The child knew nothing of our loss
And Death, he did not care.
We will grieve forever,
Till Death once more will call.
Taking us, at last to him;
To be together, all.

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