Bloom in sunshine delirious
from deep the ground mysterious
puts on a show for all of us
don’t make a fuss don’t make a fuss
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Before too long it will wither
turn dry and brown when we shiver
time to give thanks to the giver
oh come hither oh come hither
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dVerse prompt to write a monotetra— eight syllables each rhyming line except for the fourth line which is a four count repeat. Of course I had to write about the garden.
Although I am gone I see you there
so nice how you gathered flowers while I
(below in my coffin)
smiled the mortician’s smile
and watched as each of you
placed a rose upon the lid
before I was lowered into the earth
Now I would rather be placed
in a tree pod
my decomposition
feeding a fig tree
(remember the one
on the south side of the house)
you can eat my figs
There is sorrow in that
I would have to die twice
_________________
NaPoWriMo Day 8 — writing from the POV of a dead person. Photo of an ancient burial urn taken at Muséo Archeologico Regionale Paolo Orsi in Syracuse, Sicily
wordshophop 