High Time He Rested - Poem by Possawat Piankij
A senile man is sitting in his favorite chair,
Thinking of burdens which he used to bear:
Working, cooking, financial problems and so fourth.
Now, it's time he took a rest;
There's nothing for him to quest.
Not time he learnt the most complex Mathematical sentence.
Not time he longed for revenge or abhorrence.
Not time he helped his daughter make a Halloween pumkin,
But it's high time he rested forever in his coffin.
- J.P. Millcoln -
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