Dinner At the Last Wake

Seldom you come, you never said grace You sit at the table With a frown on your face The table set before you the food is present Yet you say not a blessing Dinner at the last wake You choke and you hold your throat But no one comes to you You gasp and you choke Know one rescues you Yet you say not a blessing Dinner at the last wake What's wrong, your ungrateful You shallow a chicken bone Pale you turn, choked, choking OH!!! You place your hand across your neck But to late, alas no one does the Hymleck A small piece of apple A hot spot of pie A fish bone that stuck in your throat And hits you also in the eye But no one comes to you You gasp and you choke Yet you say not a blessing Know one rescues you What's wrong, your ungrateful You sit at the table With a frown on your face The table set before you the food is present Yet you say not a blessing now your at rest For you have finally choke to death For this is your last dinner your asleep. . . Dinner at the last wake 10/26/17 written by James Edward Lee Sr.