The beat is thud & dull
Air is but death
On this crowded arena
Nascent fear, trembling hands
Sinking hopes,
So unhappy.
This soul has been in a parade
Marching, whining, flaunting fears
No God came for this helpless mortal
As she beg & ask for a downpouring alms.
And now she's.....
Shrouded with white sheet
Cold from head to feet
Death now encapsulates her.

12/30/1996

© Gloria del Carmen

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