The 115th death.
[By Surabhi Mehrotra]
“Let’s go,” murmured Future. She held his hand and prepared to leave.
“But you must stay,” cried Present, “why don’t you believe?”
Away she went, on Future fixed her gaze
Caught in love’s fever, she spent some jolly days
“We’re meant to be together, Future and me!”
What could Present do but watch, and what could do history?
“Enough!” wailed Destiny, “Future is a traitor,
She should have been in secure hands,
Present, you must save her.”
Present, by now, full of malice,
In one move, just one, that was sharp and callous
Pulled her back harder than she could stand
He looked into her bare eyes and held her frozen hand.
“Forgiver her, oh soul, for in the days bygone,
In the mellow dusk, all she did was to wait for dawn.”
Our Self-Written Obituaries invites people to write their obituary in 200 words. The idea is to share with the world how you will like to be remembered after you are gone. (May you live a long life, of course!) Please mail me your self-obit at firstname.lastname@example.org.