top of page
Death sat at my kitchen table
crawled unto my lap and slept.
It left its cold paw on my skin
as my hands cradled it warm.
I knew she would come,
we are no strangers.
I welcomed her in,
stayed to watch her grow,
while life lost the short battle
in this furry skin.
Rigid now,
eyes opened watching none.
I thank life and death
for their brief visit,
whisper in opened earth "come again"
bottom of page