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