He is gone
Gone like a forgotten winter
Leaving us behind in a gust of summer.
Dust lifted at his feet has swept him away
Carried him into an eternal cycle
Once again death has claimed victory,
Over these hearts we call life lines.
We hang onto the last words which we heard,
Years ago whispered by a voice
We could only formulate
Create nostalgic echoes of what we wish we had heard.
You see he always wins
He always takes from those who don’t owe him
Death is a dealer who gives to those that do not sit at his table.
He thinks of those who don’t think of him
If death was to have a nickname it would be poker face
He keeps a straight face
While he deals out life ending cards
Yet we still sit
Sip on green tea
Pretend everything is fine
When really we are slowly deteriorating
Vanishing into thin specs of dust
Which are sieved through the teeth of his personal he’ll.
Yet we still entertain his presence
Accept him like a christmas present.