Death.

Death.

 

Last night, Death, paused briefly at my door

Like a shadow He moved across the floor

I felt the icy chill of his breath

I knew He had come, the Lord of Death

As He passed In silence and in stealth

No fear, no terror nor fright I felt

He paused for a moment ,then moved on his way

No one here, was on his list today

Through the bedroom wall He crept

To where our neighbour soundly slept

And stopped for a moment at her bedside

Her time had come He would not be denied

As He gently embraced her in his arms

No rosary beads, crucifix, no holy charms

Could save her now from the Collector of Souls

Time to exit the stage, she had played her roles

Daughter, Widow, Mother and Wife

She had given her best, all her life

She felt no fear, no terror nor dread

As she joined the Procession of the Dead.

To meet those that had gone before her

And the loving embrace of her God and Saviour.

 

  1. Denis Murphy 29 January 2019.

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