Her hair was red, eyes bluer than mine

But I was still here, though she’d run out of time

She and I both bore the same first name

But I’d won while she’d lost in life’s little game

She had stopped breathing. Her skin was too cold.

I’d say it’s her time , but she wasn’t that old

Her face wasn’t wrinkled, and her voice was still strong

To be cut down so soon seemed altogether wrong

But that is life’s game, with rules so unclear

That the unpredictability itself fills good hearts with fear

And, though I might tremble, my trepidation’s in vain

Because no one can play forever in life’s little game


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