… a poem for my new friend. death becomes her.


The Undertaker’s Rose

My new friend wears a great expression
Not sadness, anger, nor depression
You’d have to offer your concession
That ‘happy’ is her first impression

She cares for those who’ve kicked the bucket
Who’ve shuffled off to buffal-ufkit
Nailed life’s dismount – totally stuck it
She helps those who have bleedin’ snuffed it

This irreverence is completely mine
Though amused, she would be disinclined
To belittle, pooh-pooh, or malign
Our passage to the great divine


I’ll not worry if I meet my maker
She’ll help me o’er to heavens acre
She truly is an image breaker
My new friend is an undertaker.

Thanks for readin’.

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