One thinks of candles at a time like this.
She had a go at both ends,
Grabbing life with both hands
Without wavering.
But it ends as it began:
With awe and wondering and tears,
Though this time prematurely.
(“Snuffed out”)
And this time the tears shine for what is lost,
Rather than for what is begun.
* * *
And here we were,
Arrogantly counting days
On widespread fingers,
Fretting about the wind;
When while what was cupped in our hands, is now
Immortalised in cyberspace.
Like a still-life painting on a gallery wall.
my small corner 