Death
Just a touch, The color fades, The red rose, Turns to grey. Breath is stilled, The heart grows cold, This doesn't just happen, To the old. Silently in it's crib, A child fades away, It's called Crib Death, That's all the Doctors will say. An old woman, In a nursing home, Goes out like a candle, Does anyone care she's gone? A driver drinking, A firey crash, Payments paid, Gone in a flash. Every one takes their turn,, Oneday it will be our turn to fall, The angel of death, Pays visit to us all. Written December 7th, 2001 © on Dec 07 2001 02:48 AM PST, Phyllis Thompson 0 • 10
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Just a touch,..."