What's life and death to you and me
For me it's all a mystery
I don't feel reincarnation's
Like changing trains in life's stations
I stare at plates during dinner
Thinking the eater's the winner
Letters to lions from the deer
I'm sure would say, 'Wish you weren't here!'
I'm amazed silent strawberry
Reincarnates into laughing me
How milk turns into yellow teeth
Thin chicken to wide feet beneath
A teeny weeny bit of me
Only the bit that others see
Stays in paintings and in photos
All busy posterity knows
My childhood's already long past
Although my hair still grows like grass
I hope this poem stays all day
I'm preserved in a noval or play
Before it's tipped from life's wheelbarrow
When I'm gone like a shadow
And you'll have something left to see
But I won't see, no, no, not me
I shall leave money in banks and wills
To pay for a funeral, lawyers and bills
After death I shan't return
But distribute to hungry worms
Although in life I've a loud voice
After my death I've little choice
The wind will blow and life go on
Your voices sing my silly song.
-end-
Strawberries. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.
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I originally ended with
Other voices will sing my song.
I thought that was too sad.
It's supposed to be a comical poem. You should end with a smile.
So I ended Your foices sing my silly song.
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