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Ode to O possum
O possum, lying on the road.
Why did you leave your abode?
Are you sleeping or dead?
I see trauma, but no red.
O possum, did you look both ways.
Or were you blinded, by displays.
O possum, lying on the road.
I write your ending ode.
Were you sick, was this suicide.
Or were you pushed, in assisted suicide.
O possum, lying on the road.
To what is your death, to be owed?
One less creature, on this earth,
Your passing is not a dearth.
O possum, you did have such pride.
Know now, my soul deeply cried.
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