It Comes, poetry written by R. Bremner at
Sharon Mccutcheon

It Comes

It Comes

written by: R. Bremner


It comes.
It comes every day, every morning, afternoon, and night.
It doesn’t bother to knock at our door,
It slips in unnoticed.

It finds us
Sitting in chairs, chatting
Working on the car, together
Shooting hoops with buddies
Enjoying a rousing music concert
Riding a jampacked train or bus or plane
It finds us

And silently does its best
To do its worst to us

And we can only hope
Or pray
That it will tire of its joyless mirth
And leave us forever

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