Her corpse hath risen from the dead
The grave’s no place to lie her head
She came to live with me instead
She slumbers in her morning lace
Then through the night, the grounds she’ll pace
So I wear garlic just in case
Her skin is rotting off, I swear
Can see the flakes throughout her hair
I hope she keeps it in her lair
Comes wafting down the hallway vent
I guess, at least, she’s paying rent
© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien
In the last rays of swirling light
when the earth kisses the dusk,
will you dance among the graves
and sing a gentle song for Death?
When the earth kisses the dusk
where will your tired footsteps lead?
To a tombstone not yet etched?
Will you dance among the graves,
a ghostly apparition in your arms,
that bitter, closing waltz, macabre?
And sing a gentle song for Death,
laugh bravely as you pass his shadow.
He awaits only the sweet music’s end.
© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart