
This is a short little poem I wrote myself the night one of my classmates passed away. Please Review! It is much appreciated!
Rated: Fiction K - English - Poetry/Hurt/Comfort - Words: 97 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 03-08-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3003576
|
|
A+ A- |
The last time you'll walk along the beach
Or warm your hands by the hearth.
Whether you love doing something or not,
Wherever you live
Cold or hot.
How do you know the last time you'll have a birthday?
Who you'll get married to,
or if you'll even live that day.
How are you supposed to know all these things associated with living?
You aren't.
Beacause if you did, it wouldn't be living.
And it wouldn't be death.
|
||||||