Death's Cold Hand
Behind each mortal, it will stand-
at odds with life, to wait on guard,
with rigid arm and biding hand-
so icy cold, quiescent, scarred.
Yes, it arrives with life's first breath-
life's ending cycle known as death.
One never knows the if or when-
its frigid hand morphs now to then.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: May 2019 No 6, Max 8 Lines
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 05/22/2019
~2nd Place~
Contest: Writing Challenge 1- April 2019 - Rhyme
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Judged: 04/21/2019
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2019
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