Buy-By-Bye

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Buy-By-Bye

“Our echoes roll from soul to soul--and grow

forever and for ever.”--Alfred Lord Tennyson.

When young, death is but a shadow

--follow.

For some of us, death can come early

--barely.

My own mother was just thirty-nine

--pine.

My tiny nephew died of SIDS

--kids.

For me, funerals can be a drag

--hag.

Loved ones should just have a joyful wake

--cake.

No one gets out of life alive

--jive.

Mortality becomes middle-age crazy

--daisy.

They say fifty is the new forty

--sporty.

After retirement, time reaches hyper-speed

--indeed.

Your older body begins to break down

--clown.

Your own libido takes flight

--fright.

No one wants you to drive a car

--har-har.

Funeral homes send Christmas cards

--regards.

You become easily distracted

--subtracted.

You begin forgetting many things

--badda-bings.

When walking you seek more benches

--trenches.

You hope Death resembles Robert Redford

--Stepford.

Perhaps with death comes a doorway

--hooray.

You attempt to stifle your fear

--tear.

You try to muster your resolve

--evolve.

Always step gaily into the light

--good-night.

Glenn Buttkus

Echo Verse

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub