Writing form the Body week 3

Sonnet

On Sudden Death



A hand turned upwards holds
Only a single, transparent question
The ‘why’ that fortune has not told
The shock of her untimely action

Anticipation of a routine day
Shot through with lamentation
The future no longer ‘come what may’
Tainted with terrible expectation

The other question arises where
’Why not me’, I hear again
My parents’ voice, Life isn’t Fair,
Suffering for all, their share of pain

From this day take each moment as the last
Cherish the friendship, reach out and hold fast.





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