Here lies my body
my life-long shell.
Worked through the grind
and finally fell.

Lying postmortem
on this cold table.
The reaper calls,
"Come, you are able."

An undertaker prepares
to hammer the stones
Of my final resting place
sepulcher for my bones.

Resting in pieces
all through the years.
Time washes away
lost memories' tears.

© 2011 Judy Ponceby