The pain is slow, yet sharp,
And all the thoughts are a warp,
Garbed in white cotton,
I carry in my arms, the memories rotten,
While I dig the earth,
To bury the body,
I contemplate life and birth,
It is a miracle, yet bawdy,
Time's a great healer, they say,
And that's the great debt we all pay,
Now, I'll take your leave, if I may,
As I silently await my day,
I bid goodbye to my recent guest,
And here I lay him to rest,
In the hope of everlasting peace,
Join him, I will, after this life, cease...
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