Don't put me in the Narrow Bed
When at last I lay my head...
If dust -- as chimney sweepers must--
Then in the air my mettle rust --
The wind to blow upon the bones
A melody of cheerful tones,
The sun to warm a cooling heart...
A feast of CULINARY ART
For worm and grub and bug and crow...
For Pete's sake, better lay me low!
Pickle and stuff my empty shell --
Just save me from the maggot's hell!
This started out as serious thought, but even I recognize how bad it was, so...voila: Compost Tea (of me).
Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day!
