Death is approaching by year's end
My father is next in the family to go
And I, his eldest, with him to the end
Who should be his friend,
                               - am I really his foe?


I prayed once the reaper would take me instead,

Still being naive, and yet full of zeal,

In my dread at the news of another near dead,

I thought: if I was struck it would prove He is real...


Another thought now,
And this one less pure:
Why bother with treatment if
                 it
        is
               that
     sure?