Amorbaby
Death is an old friend, soft in stride,
Who walks beside us, tries to hide,
Not to intrude, but there to see
The life we weave, our history.
In whispers faint, like autumn’s sigh,
He waits where seasons go to die.
No need to fear or turn away,
For Death knows life in full array.
He’s watched us bloom, watched us decline,
With gentle hands that mark the time.
Not one for words, he humbly stays,
A shadow cast on our sunlit days.
When the last breath of life is spent,
We greet him, weary, worn, content.
Death comes not as a thief or foe—
An old friend now, we’ve come to know.
