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.