Death is beautiful.

She held my aunt’s hand on a rainy day, smiling gently.

She brought my grandmother flowers.

She eased my Poppy’s pain.

Her golden eyes flash - the greatest sight to see before the end.

I caught sight of her once, fleetingly. 

She was offering me a glass of water.

I choked on my fear and ran away.

Cyn saw her once as well.

We few to see her and recount the tale have common ground.

She offers a hand to those in need.

I miss her sometimes.

She was a vision.

But Life called with twice the strength.

Life, the gruff tall man.

Always reminding you of your responsibilities.

He caught my hand and punched me in the guts

And took beautiful Death away. 

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