The Waiting Game

Some memories have grown
To be full of sorrows,
Of friends and foes
Who cannot see tomorrow,
As we wait for him
Our turn to follow.

As soon as you are born
You begin to die,
Mankind has been told
Many repeated times,
As no man knows
when you come for him.

Our cereals and grains
Would fill your granaries,
And the famine in your belly
Shall forever be a scar,
If light or sunshine
Could trace your shaddow.