Death comes in many ways and forms
a dwindling hope that numbs the soul
and every day becomes the same,
behind goodbyes or painful shame
in the aftermath of passing storms
with times gone in youth time stole.
Death comes and hides in forgotten faces
underneath the sheets of a lonely bed
and on empty walls with pictures gone
behind waking hours waiting for dawn
and on dusty pages of a story unread,
death comes and hides in so many places.
H.O. January 20, 2015