On sheets of white Her skin becomes translucent As shallow breaths Escape through her pursed lips Once strong and sure She now lays scared and weakened Just flesh on bone And from lifeís grasp she slips
Now two floors up A womanís screams are sounding As her husband Stands there by her side One final push And infantís cry is noted One life is born While down below one dies
To love means never to be afraid of the windstorms of life: should you shield the canyons from the windstorms you would never see the true beauty of their carvings. ~Elizabeth Kubler-Ross
you did an excellent and very beautiful job with this. i enjoy your work immensly. you are able to take complex subjects such as life and death and write them in such a way that not only can everyone understand but also can probably relate to. take care!
~Live today as though it were your last but prepare for tomorrow as though it were here~