Six Epitaffies
A Fading Glimmerick
From a limerick writer of note,
the very last thing that he wrote
would begin
“Now I write
my obit, rather trite.
I rhymed all my days
and long into the ”
His last words, still an unfinished
quote.
Quoth the Maven Nevermore
His words may never fill a quote
but he stood by each word he wrote
until his final lines were read
at his farewell, when he was dead.
Breathless in Anticipation
For her return
he held his breath.
She chose to wait
until his death.
Don’t Beat Your Wife!
Their argument,
his only win,
meant his wife lost.
A fatal sin!
Good Riddance
She said goodbye forevermore.
“He lays at Rest Beneath this Floor”
inscribed upon the outhouse door.
A Token Farewell
Sweet fragrant grass is now his
cloak.
Above his ass below, we toke.
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