Death 'Waits', Lately Poem by James McLain
Death 'Waits', Lately
Slowly adjusting mirrors vanity
what a shame, what a waste
such good stock, shelved.
They cannot be quite, doddering
cod, placed on small a lively hill.
Executions always wait, was I not
frequently early to most, heartily.
Breaches four creases, early maid
fetch me now hurry.Fleeced they
would but tarry, impatient scruffs.
The block, chopped chips in my eye,
while blood ruined, my last white shirt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 10:25:35 PM # 1.0.0.1119
