The Death Of Me Poem by Randy McClave

What will be the death of me
Since I am now single, retired and free,
I am my own caretaker, my very own boss
Only I have to worry about my own win or loss;
But, I now think quite often
What will be the cause of the nails in my coffin.
Other people problems I need not worry about
With bills or mortgages, I don't have to scream or shout,
My own money is my very own deposit
My only extra baggage's are stored in my closet;
So, I still wonder what will be my ultimate ending
As my soul, my mind, my body is always mending.
I once worried constantly about my dear ole mother
And then about my sick older brother,
Then my young son I worried about him as well
Then I had a wife, who treated me like Hell;
Sadly death, then maturity, and then a divorce arrived
I both proudly and strongly, survived.
Now in my life stormed some unneeded stress
Which I truly hate, if I were to ever swear or confess,
I hired someone else to lay down my tile floor
Now I'm being used, as though I am their slave or whore;
Now after I added up all of these extra factors
The death of me, will probably be caused by contractors.

Randy L. McClave