Death Poem II

Second in a series of unknown length

DEATH POEM II

 

She came at her leisure,
Some time to spare.
She wasn't in a hurry,
She was always paid her fare.

The usual reason,
Time was up,
No matter the season.
Come hither to sup'.

Your date has come.
Your cards have been dealt.
No tears now,
They'll go unfelt.

You made your bed,
Now lie in it.
Enough has been said.

Now you're  DEAD !!   


LeBuert Feb. 2011