
The photo is by Mike Flemming 2020
Thank you,Mike
We can cast our body like a cloak
Around the loved one when they cannot speak
Hold them like an infant when at rest
Sleeping softly on a mother’s breast
Touching them and keeping them at peace
Until they can accept death and its release
They seem to concentrate on unknown tasks
Till their minds are happy and they pass
They come first but afterwards we fall
Into an abyss where we just crawl
Seeing shapes and visions, feeling sore
Aching for the one we see no more
A paradox , we give and nothing gain
The suffering of the heart, the searing pains



Why do people boil eggs?
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To fulminate against the hands of fate
To vent our anger on beloved friends
Will not repair our ills and our mistakes
But may bring friendships to a bitter end.
For who are we to know what is the best?
Who are we to choose when loved ones die?
And do not think this is a needed test.
As if on us God wastes his time to spy.
Once we were a joining of two cells
The lively sperm, a salmon riding high.
The egg awaiting without need for bells
Is fertilised and grows that which shall die.
Astonishing that we should live at all.
Unsurprising, that a loved one falls.