Death

Millions of dreams shattered, 

When I look at your eyes cold,

My hopes and my life scattered,

How I miss the warmth of your hold.

Bright mornings seem like winters,

And dull the colours that were once bold,

I wish you were here right now,

To laugh with me or to scold.

Death comes to everyone, I know,

But why did it come so early?

Should have let you stay a little longer,

Or should have taken even me.

© Darshana Mehta