Death Keeps Sending Invitations

 

Death keeps sending invitations

Which I’ve chosen to ignore

It’s not my kind of party

Though I’m told it’s to die for

 

Those invites smell like sulphur

That’s some kind of telltale sign

Hit me up again next year, pal

Now is not a very good time

 

I’m not sure what I would bring

I can’t imagine what I’d wear

Will there be drinks and dinner

Who else will I see there?

 

It’s not my cup of social tea

Grim reapers don’t talk much

Dirges aren’t for dancing to

The hall lacks flare and touch

 

I’d rather watch the sunset

Or sunrise at dawn’s first crack

Than attend one last big blowout

From which there’s no coming back

 

Better take me off the guest list

For I’m bound to ruin the show

I’m not ready for your big event

When I am, I’ll let you know

 

 

                    s. paul    (Mar. 2021)