Dying is a strange thing
that none of us wants,
but when it is someone else,
we want to be there
to comfort them
on their way through it.
Sometimes death comes quickly,
other times it is
agonizingly slow.
For the quick, it is a blessing.
For the others when it comes
it is a release from their suffering.
No one knows when it will come,
only that one day it will.
Best we not think of it
or worry about when or where.
Just enjoy what we have
for as long as we have it.
13 April 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem