Pale skin, shrunken limbs
sit, for display, in an ornate box,
Soft tears, maybe loud wailing to
herald the disappearance of one so dear.
Sometimes, there's no ornate box
cos it's the exit of one not ripe.
So, there's just intense, harrowing grief and
maybe a glimmer of succour.
Both times, I just sit and look
at those scenarios unfolding.
Don't get me wrong, I sympathise but
I also do know
that one day,
we too shall pass, cos
it's a fate we all must share.
©6ukunmi
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