In the Mortuary

When I lay in the mortuary, Don’t cry, smile and appreciate my journey. Throughout life, at times, I lived wary. I carried hope, love and even the burdening worry. When I lay in the mortuary, Before I’m buried and forgotten in a cemetery, About my death don’t ask questions, Don’t whisper in my stiff, blue ears confessions. Few would come to my funeral, Fewer would weep. Few would care, Fewer would lose sleep. When I lay in the mortuary, Burn my drafts and books, My life was dull and ordinary.