In my hours of grim solitude
I sometimes lament loved ones
who left the world way too soon
I sob & shed a tear or two.
Though I see death all around
A big tree just fell yesterday
Petals of flowers wither everyday
Little saplings die before rays of Sun
The charm of life is momentary
we are here for a minute or two.
Still my heart stops for a second,
between the minutes of mortality,
When I ponder on how many went.
I question the raven-haired death
Just tell me why so soon, why?
The heiress of decay replies is it
not better to be soon than never?
For for many death is easier than the
cruel life itself, with a gentle bow
she soared high in the blue skies on
her winged white horse, holding
an emerald Grecian urn decorated
with vibrant violet Persian flowers.
Her dark raven hair like black clouds
dangling from skies like the droplets of
gentler rain falling on my pale skin,
As I stood drenched in translucent
waters of my own mortality.