Death Treads Softly
For every heart-breaker, there is a love-maker; for every flower, an hour — a death, a life. Death Treads Softly Death treads softly past the nurse reading at her desk. When morning comes, another bed is empty. Winter is long, the old folks let go one by one. We strip their sheets and scrub the floors, send their bundles to the laundry. But the ones who live are hungry. […]
William Michaelian 