Stings of Death
Quicker than life can blink, death lobs a bite
To end life's beauty with a startling jab
As swine rootling truffles, it stalks with might
Trapping motley, rich or poor to its web
Amidst pleasures, our finest hope they steal
And cast in vaults where upon we shall slab
And soils are strewn over without repeal
It’s a drab drape on our wound like a scab
Who can halt this dark implacable plight?
Even conjurors’ mourn this scaring blow
With grunts, in grief and so without respite
A lobbed spear from the earth's shady shadow
Would the hand of sorrow and death be nabbed,
Yet their clutch leaves the heart stabbed.
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