It’s a strange thought
that when you die
your hair stops with your body.
Your fingernails too.
It’s not just a not-breathing
that happens, but a not-growing.
And I can’t decide which is more tragic:
to no longer be a sail
or to no longer be a garden.
Header photograph © Jason D. Ramsey.
About the Author
Terry Palmer
I’m a coffee drinker as well, and a writer. Often contemplate these issues for my devotionals. Well said poem which causes one to stop and think
Bless you as you write.