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 poetry by Mercysmine

Will  There  Be  One

How  long  before  they  gather, to  see
Me  languish  on  my  bed, perhaps  a  prayer
Be  said, to  end  my  wretchedness

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Shall  they  kill  the  fatted  calf,  make
Merry  with  their  friends,  when  the
 Physician  deems, my  life  is  growing  dim

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Will  they  gather  round  my  death  bed, with
Feigned  cries  of  sadness, will  there  be  one
Who's  heart, is  truly  pricked  inside  them  

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Will  my  remembrance  bring  a  shutter, shall
I  be  called  to  mind  at  all, will  there  be  no
One  to  mourn  my  passing,  no  one, at  all ?      


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