The Visitor

Oh Death, my friend, has come to visit.
Where is your victory? Where is your sting?
Has your sword, once turned against me,
Been made to me a blessed thing?

You who used to make me tremble,
Have now become a welcomed guest.
For your stay is but a moment,
But your leave, eternal rest.

—Vicki Baird


Posted on August 6, 2015, in Poems, Reflections and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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