Saturday, October 29, 2011

After LIfe













I wake up on a loft,
On cuddly soft,
lavender fragrant sheets
I get up with ease
On my steadiest knees
And what do you know, no sneeze.

There's no need to pray
For a good hair day
For who else will brother moon give way?
But a kinder sister sun,
Who knows how to have fun.

Then, as soon as I feel it,
Before I can think it
Belgian waffles I see
Golden, gleaming in syrup
Even birds go chirrup,

And what do you know
Not a minute in yearning,
My loved ones appearing
A chorus of awakenings
To their own favourite things.

Now, would you rather count fully
On a good probability,
Twenty four seven
After life, in heaven?

Or you might as well be seeing
Taxidermists making a killing
Stuffing, while whistling,
Our dearly departed,
All hollow,
With nary a soul.

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