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Personal Note:

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Poem

Death just seems to surround us. They say it comes in threes. A close friend just had a 
death, and then another came along for another friend. Why is it the good die young? That 
newborns are born still, or die early. That they never get to feel the soft tickle of a breeze, 
hear the gentle lullaby of the ocean tide, or see the fiery blaze of a sunrise? Why are they 
deprived to hear the whisper of wind in trees, the song of crickets and the dance of fireflies? 
They say when it’s your time, it’s your time. They say you go when “He” calls you home. 
What if you aren’t ready? What if you have things you need to do? I guess we don’t have a 
choice. Death is inevitable I suppose, just as time never stops it’s silver flow. yet, is there 
not a greater purpose to life than to be born to die? The beauties of life must be taken in 
with gratitude. We must remember some never get to witness the freshness of spring, the 
warm embrace of a lover, or the wet bath you get when your dog greets you at the door. 
never take life for granted, for you never know how many days you have. Stop and smell 
the roses, because one day, you won’t smell thing. 

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