Death's Icy Atmosphere Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Turning away from incessant whispers and calls from inside
of sorrow's darkened hallways.

Knowing the outcome every time will be that of intense pain
and tears flowing from my soul into the icy atmosphere of
death.

It boldly stands here before me in all it's ghostly robes
of black, taunting me with it's empty stare of death.

Knowing that a loved one will soon have that absent look
also, is tearing me apart inside.

Why does death have to be so prevalent in our lives? Why
can't we find a cure for it's deathly grasp and bury it
at last, once and for all forever.