In Memory Of My Late Sister Poem by alexander opicho

In the wee hour of a chilly night,
Sleep had totally escaped my eye lid,
On the scary cooing of the gnomish owl,
Outside my house, in the canopy of native flora,
Was the owl, officially on duty of harbingering death
A short message alarm rang on my cell phone,
Idly lying at the head side of my wooden bed,
Fear and eerie had numbed my nerves
Not knowing to move and take the phone or not,
As the owlish humming of fateful music
Again is often interrupted by the mew of the cat,
A transmogrified Night-runner in perfection of evil art,
But rationality washed me sober and clear minded,
I picked the phone and viewed the message,
I came face to face with a menacing piece of literature;
‘'Dear uncle, your sister Judith is dead,
She now lies in a morgue at city hospital,
She died laughing and laughing,
Laughing away the stupid pangs,
Of cervical cancer, the master killer
Of the beautifu, the bold and the bright''
I was discombobulated beyond chance of recombobulation,
Pains panged my heart with the fangs of self uselenessness,
All else became valueless apart from spark of disillusionment
In the pearl that; O death! O death! Why are you ever un-timely?
Must the weak fortune be in companionship of the mighty
Fate and death when-ever they both pay visit to humanity?