There never was a doctor's office
That escaped the early traces
Of the symptoms worse than coughs and
escaped the forlorn faces.
There never was a doctor trained
Who escaped this early lesson
Of the symptoms worse than sprained
It's a part of their profession.
Death is that which binds us all
There's different ways encountered
Some in beds with family call
Or quickly , swiftly found hurt.
Grateful for each day, and after that the night
Even if the fates align, I'll still put up a fight.

2012