Hearts shouldn’t stop before their time;
They should work properly, and do what they’re told.
Folks should wait to die, for when they’re good and old;
To die beforetime breaks all sense and reason. No,
They should wait, til they’re long past their prime,
For the old-folks-in-rocking-chairs-season:
When the children are grown, and the grandchildren too;
When the balm for their survivors’ tears, is
“Well, he was old and full of years.”
He wasn’t old and full of years.
My love was young, and sparkling full of life;
And full of plans, and hopes, and dreams;
And one was to make me his wife.
And now I am left with what’s left,
When your love, and your dreams, are both buried.
I died with him also that day–don’t you know?
But it was him only they carried.
What I cannot get out of my head:
He isn’t supposed to be dead.
written Wednesday, August 18, 2010, 4:46 pm, 5:00 pm
revised Thursday, August 19, 2010, 4:02 am