I cannot for the life of me
remember how I died?
A knife?
A rope?
A bullet?
That finally closed my eyes?
An overdose?
Bad needle?
Rusty razor blade?
Did I leave the window opened,
or first pull down the shade?
A storm at sea?
A plane crash?
Or a tumble in the snow?
I wish I could remember,
if it came on fast or slow?
Some rare disease?
That cancer?
A blood clot in my brain?
I’ve tried, but can’t remember,
perhaps I died insane?
A husband who was early,
And found me in his bed?
Perhaps I did die happy?
All I know, I’m bloody dead!
© (Löst Viking) ( November 2015) John Anthony Fingletonhttps://www.facebook.com/pages/Löst-Viking/746104845419195
An amusing divertissement ; very droll with a whiff of Hitchcock for the connoisseurs.
Good evening Louis
The swing and flow of the poem is amusing with varying degree of thoughts left over to readers . A lovely engaging poem
Thank you shamsher, it is just a little fun.
A mystery unresolved.. well penned
Sunila, thank you for reading.
An enchanting poem to be read and enjoyed with’ a willing suspension of disbelief’.
Vijay, thank you, just a touch of my black humour
😀 death did away with memories too. Good one, John!