No Cure Poem by Deborah Ashdown
No Cure
A chance to live, a chance to die.
Sometimes there's no choice, only the question, why?
The birth of a baby, so precious and pure.
My gran dies of cancer, of which there's no cure.
Heaven or hell, where did she go?
Is there a god? I don't think so.
Wouldn't it be grand to find a cure.
A lot less deaths, that's for sure.
Grief is hard, grief is bad.
Please find a cure of which I'll be glad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2024 7:06:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Glad and a Millioair darling...nice read ryhms well Kiss HUG from dave xxx