Be Prepared

BE PREPARED

I'm sad to report my own demise
(Gone seeking angels in the skies).
Please find my address book, complete with stamps,
And let people know. (My hearty thanks.)
For when people pay to die in A Home;
Once they are gone, they become Unknown.

Their former resident's gone, can't pay;
He has no voice; he's had his day.
His letters and Christmas cards, toss in the bin.
Open the door, let the next man in.
My advice to him, before he dies:
Prepare a report of your own demise.

poem © Celia Warren 2010