There will be roses and daisy
When you are gone: dripping water
will drop from the sky liner,
the neglected tall fence overlaps
On to the neighbor property: little did she know
Those Iron bolts and hinges trap your ghost within:
Heavy with guilt, her bald spots will shine
Under her broad rim Sunday hat, as she sing praises
Many have notice that you are no longer there,
Now the world know of her secret love affair,
With the elderly church parishioner:
Holy, holy Oh God almighty
Those members can surely sin,
Now, the world know now of her dirty affair,
There will be roses, and daisy, when you are gone
Dripping, water from the sky liner,
Centipede in her bloomers:
And the ghost of you, will be trap in her chambers,
Where the sin of incest was repeated,
These perhaps might be useless memories
whereas , a poet ears, and pen never forgets,
The tears of the dead, confession,
Oh, there will be talk of your passing,
Some good and some will comes,
across as being empathic
There is always that faint whisper of what a pity!
It took years, but the widow E.W. stood there and wept
Holy, holy Oh, God Almighty,