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Life and Death
June 8, 2011
Its desolate blank eyes stare at me
No sound.
Its cold hands press against my skin for warmth.
No pulse.
It remains lifeless for days and I worry.
No life.
Week after week it starts to shrivel.
Death.
Death has mushroomed over it, but I try to revive it.
________________________________
Its face is not so white.
Heartbeat.
It lets out a giggle.
Laughter.
It hugs me with both arms.
Movement.
It shares my stories with the world.
Life.
Life.
Paper.
© Trella R., Mountain Lakes, NJ
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