There comes a time in all folks life,
when special love becomes bespeak.
Futurity takes over.
To live alone to live to die alone.
What future do we have and why?
Furnish..me,
A trusted cabinet.
An old oak dresser.
A rocking chair,
made out of rattan.
Tatty around the edges.
Sat under the window.
Where the sunlight shone through.
The blinds were half open.
A strange shade of puce.
It's cold and reliable.
That tatty old chair.
A body and soul, both sat in there.
Stranded in time.
A comfortable cushion.
Sat perching.
Silently sitting.
Call the mortician.
(C) Livvi