Ready Or Not.

Death can be tragedy or the sweetest relief,

a threat looming, ever patient, the greatest of thieves.

For it steals from us all, whether ready or not

from tired dreamy old ladies,

to babes, still fresh in the cot.



I stand in this square where we bury our dead,

the minister's words wash over the mass of bowed heads.

Some eyes wander down, into that dark, deep, soily plot,

knowing too their time will come,

whether ready or not.