Clutching at straws

A life lingers, but we know it’s slowly dying

A life lingers, but there is always hope we say.

A life lingers, treat this, treat that.

Clutching at straws, to get it to remain.


The clutch of a handbag, holding it closed

The belongings spilling out of every crack.


The clutch of chickens newly hatched.

The runt, it’s life slowly leaking away.


The clutch of a child holding onto it’s parent,

The grasp so tight begging them not to go.


This is us, forcing life to remain.

Clutching at straws, maybe, sometimes we should




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