DEATH PROVES A MAN HOPELESS

The creeping hand of death doth move
And in its moving smites,
In cutting down our hopes and dreams
Death’s creeping hand delights.

‘The good die young,” or so they say
The bad can live forever,
As our hopes and dreams doth fade
Death makes our future never.

We strive to live a long, full life
But death can change our plans,
So future dreams can fade away
If that is what death demands.

As childhood passes quickly away
And adulthood doth take hold,
Our dreams are of a full, rich life
Yet all too soon we have grown old.

The creeping hand of death doth move
At night around your darkened room,
Death has come to call on you
And life must end so very soon.

THE END
© Copyright 2023, Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia