Friday, 3 August 2012


Many have heard your fame
Yet none dare sing your praise
or mention your name in public or in pews
for fear you’d appear with a certain bad news.

You pay visits to homes
Without their permission, you follow jealously like A shadow
You bring families together just to cry like babies,
Uniformed mourners to hone their skill.
I would define rather than call out your dreaded name.
The stranger with ice fingers 

Are you in search of shelter?
You smile and we ponder why
So daily as you plunder; your victims so mock
For I see them all in obituaries smiling.

Copyright (C) 2012
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