Dead

by

Stephen Cree

When my lungs come to rest
and I've thought my last thought
and I've pennies for spec's
and my vive has turned mort...

When I've kicked at the bucket
and shaken a seven
and bench-pressed some daisies
and tried to make heaven...

When my boot soles stop wearing
and Reaper's close by
and a grey undertaker
packs me up for the ride...

When I'm fast losing weight
and fluids and skin
and achieving my goal
of becoming quite thin...

When I'm subterranean
sleeping with worms
and no longer fearful
of picking up germs...

Remember me, remember me
but not as a right knob.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Priceless Pearl
by: Alfy Andrews
from: Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India

To visit all of Stephen Cree's poems, click HERE

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