Reader's poem.

THE FINAL ACT Death is but a part of life The end scene of a play. A drama that started When we were born that day, Each one of us plays a part In this drama of life.

Each scene a mystery In the story that will unfold, For we are only bit players, The full story to us untold. Each day we take centre stage A new backdrop for to see. The scenery keeps changing The story rolls on endlessly, Different parts we have to play As through life we go.

The final outcome is death - as we all know, Yet the final act is not yet written, The script we do not know Until that final moment From the wings we must go To play the last part of the drama In this play of life We have come to know. On stage for the final act, The script a mystery? Is this the final act or, will there be a curtain call for me? A CLIFFORD, Chester-le-Street.

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