In the haunted castles of my mind,
Gruesome pictures of a past I find;
It wasn't very long ago, we wed,
Yesterday I woke, and found you dead.
You looked so lovely, lying there,
For several moments, all I did was stare;
You had a semblance of a smile,
Stretched out upon the kitchen tile.
As if something you thought had struck you funny,
You always had a good sense of humor honey;
Now you getting stiff and growing cold,
And you'll never have to worry getting old.
The blood has stopped its slow but steady bleeding,
And paramedics, I'm sure, you'll not be needing;
I'll take good care of you from here on in,
Cover up and comfort you from where you've been.
I'll bury you out back with our dog, Sam,
'Cause that's the kind of guy I really am;
Then I'll have some coffee, just a cup,
And afterward, I'll go and I'll clean up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem