Last Poem
(to my wife)

As I grow feeble, wan and weak -
old girl who knows me best of all -
waste not your time to keep me able
but listen well should death come call.

Pay heed to every scrape and scratch
and none to one man's fits and taunts;
attend to who would lift the latch,
but do not fret - it's me he wants.

Give me up, old girl I know -
my efforts now are much too great;
where once I was, soon I'll go -
life was long and death is late.

And may all left to you be spent
in daily, simple pleasurement.
Good bye, old girl. Live well. Take heart.
And close the door when we depart.


If you've any comments on this poem, J.D.Heskin would be pleased to hear from you.

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