Kevin Michael Bloor

dying things

dying things will surely die, 

including you, my friend, and I. 

Love won’t last and life’s soon over, 

and though you kiss like Casanova 

the tide will turn to poison passion, 

and like the fickle face of fashion 

all beautiful and pretty creatures 

will lose their lovely form and features, 

and fade like fog or mist that drifts, 

as sure as ocean’s sand that shifts. 

All dying things are doomed to perish, 

from life, the loved ones we all cherish 

are snatched, before our eyes can blink, 

reduced to thoughts the dying think.