A chance to live, a chance to die.
by Deborah Ashdown
Sometimes there's no choice, only the question, why?
The birth of a baby, so precious and pure.
My gran dies of cancer, of which there's no cure.
Heaven or hell, where did she go?
Is there a god? I don't think so.
Wouldn't it be grand to find a cure.
A lot less deaths, that's for sure.
Grief is hard, grief is bad.
Please find a cure of which I'll be glad.