I am feeling worn out and exhausted

The summer has passed me right by

Both t he dead and the living

Are sometimes forgiving.

I note with a very loud sigh.

The radio sprung into action

A loud voice told me where to get off!

I had not touched the switch

Is my neighbour a witch?

But I did hear my late husband cough.

Later I sat in great silence

When suddenly the TV came on.

Is there some message here?

Is there an angel near?

My late husband was a   warm yet strange man.

I have lived for twelve weeks in dark mourning

But  now it is time for some  song.

Write me new sentences

Show me new entrances.

For with the living I  rightly belong.

I have been down to the Styx and seen blackness

But my life has not yet reached the  end

Make me laugh merrily

Tell me  jokes terribly

Let’s all be bad and be banned!

The queue waits patiently in a  straggling line

For payment is demanded for our goods

We  no longer keep chickens ,ducks nor swine.

Nor hunt for rabbits in the green deep woods.

As flocks are ruled by farmers,so we live

We queue for buses, fill out forms when told

If  we offence or trouble ever give

We’ll soon be in the dock for being bold.

Yet is it wise  for rich folk to display

Their wealth and fortune to the passing crowd?

This is not  that loving Christian way

That asks consideration from the proud.

Modesty ,kindness, caring  are  now sins!

So beware or find that you have  been condemned