Though we try to understand,
The flowers say it best:
A life in full-bloom plucked away
And hastened to its rest.
Straining to articulate,
In vain we seek a voice.
So, we resort to hugs and tears,
As if we had a choice.
To void the Reaper’s deathly grin,
We focus on a life –
Thankful for a life well-lived,
It still cuts like a knife.
Stephen Tomkins
11 September 2018
Sydney
This brought me to tears, remembering my friend of twenty who passed away a couple weeks ago… You’ve helped me put my feelings to voice
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much for your kind words. This poem was inspired by the sudden death of a 23 year old friend of my son. A similar experience, it would seem. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
This made me a little bit sad. I remember my grandpa, gone too soon but never forgotten. 😦
Hey, don’t hesitate to visit my blog page, I would love to connect with you. I posted a new blog”Ask Me Anything” I hope you could participate in it if you don’t mind. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for taking the time to read my poem and for leaving a comment.
I’ll definitely check out your blog. 🙂
LikeLike