Worms Poem by Juan Olivarez

All is quiet within the tomb.
The only sound is worms at work.
Busy within the stygian gloom,
Their work they abhor to shirk.

Day and night they work away,
To rid the world of all it's waste.
They keep disease and death away,
Completing their gruesome job, post haste.

Look kindly on the lowly worm,
One day he'll clean up after you.
And though his presence makes you squirm,
He does the job you'll never do.

7/18/10 Alton Texas