Death Drawing Near






When your throat is parched and crumpled and there’s nothing left to say

When the words you’ve uttered whither and finally fade away

When the prospect of oblivion seems like a holiday

When you wish and wait for winter, life’s a sad stowaway


When there’s nothing left to savor, enjoy or survey

When the promenades of Paris seem as common as Calais

When you won’t even eat food made by Escoffier

When you’ll simply shut your eyes at life’s garish gauche display


When the stars seem to glare in contemptuous array

When a merest dog’s yelp seems an angry beast’s bray

When your ears are like glass that will shatter and splay

At an operatic aria searing like a communique


When you’re even spent of anger and don’t care to inveigh

When the limbs ache, grow feeble, and the muscles all decay

The casket and the hearse you will beckon, not delay

You lie down and greet death with a sweet and bright bouquet


Copyright, David Gottfried, 2007


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