Death’s embrace always reaches out for the rendezvous. The time and place never matters for the lasting embrace.
Image by niiicedave via Flickr
Death always has ways and means
To reach out and embrace Queens,
Even tiny tots to aged sods,
Babes in wombs, seeds in pods.
Its the apt timing my dear
The clock hands tick without fear,
Its beyond explanation this Sod’s Law,
You can’t escape Death’s throes raw.
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
