The world does not stay saved the way it should:
Pulled through at the last minute once again
Cured, like a miracle, and free from pain
Survival’s fragile, but it’s very good.
And touch and go, and living in remission
A year or two, snatched from Death’s very sill
By modern medicine, and hope, and will,
Is still a somewhat perilous condition.
It’s not as if the doctors didn’t try.
They saved the patient when each die was cast,
Until death let the final dice roll lie.
Alone we stand and face the icy blast.
The world does not stay saved, good people die,
Who came through every time until the last.
6th January 2018