A Mortician’s “Somber” Reflections **, Free-verse Options

[Ali zonak]

A Mortician’s “Somber” Reflections **

Cradle to grave, the destiny of man
is one from which there’s no escape
Born he was without teeth in his gums,
now it is the tooth of time that tears and gnaws.

Aging gracefully? Oh, such fleeting dream;
man finds himself a prisoner of old age.
Dogs may grow old without showing their age--
some ancient ones still run, but this one lies still.

Look--this shadow of man, once stout, his legs
are withered, stiff; the skin hangs loose
and saggy like that of a plucked goose;
his neck would be too weak to hold the head erect.

Once he was a youth with a full head of hair,
but now, one finds only one or two, maybe here
or there, not worthy of clippers and shears--
except for those bristles in nose and ear.
Well--at last he is beyond all earthly care,
yet I serve him by doing what I do best--
Hot diggity dang! Doesn't that guy looks great?