Seven Days Poem by John F. McCullagh

It is, for some, a brief vacation from the world of work for pay.
For a child awaiting Christmas it seems an eternity.
For a patient sent to hospice, their prognosis being bleak,
The sum of their tomorrows may amount to just one week.

For them there will be opiates to help manage their pain
All chemotherapy will s stop, for it has been in vain.
Like vandals bent on pillage, Cancer cells their havoc wreak.
Fear yields now to acceptance in the sure knowledge of defeat.

We all face this same sentence, this same curtain call awaits;
though some may drift off during sleep, which seems a kinder fate.
Appreciate the time you have and give each day its due.
We once had all the world and time but now our days are few.



In memory of my friend and colleague, Stephanie Cilla