Elegy.

Against my rational conscience, I offer this autobiographical elegy. A little morbid? Maybe! But poetry seems to be in the air. I think I can safely say that this will be my very last poetic posting. I originally gave this little ode the title of .....

'Elegy to an Unknown Painter'.

Then, catch me a unicorn
and make him scratch
a hole in that truffled earth
in which a stranger's heart may lie.

And ask a local man
of six foot tall
to say kind words
as they place me in.

Then let my finished body
be covered with the ashes
of oaks and pines
that were felled thereabouts.

And now, let nettles and brambles grow,
that men may know
not to trample there
where lies a simple English heart
that so loved this foreign soil.