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