Pantomime Clown

Should death be a Pantomime Clown,
Who smiles at me through painted frown
A fool with an Emerald crown,
who’s shadow walks & follows me around
in a tattered old coat, like a vagabond ghost, from the harrowing host
He says the pauper’s kingdom’s coming soon, very soon
Should death paint a tear on your cheek, just close your eyes & do not speak
'till the curtain falls & the audience is gone, they are gone
Should death paint a smile on your face, be not in disgrace, just dance &
celebrate
like a harlequin, parading your decease, through the streets
Should death try to make you his bride, don’t be afraid just look into his eyes
embrace the solitary clown,
the please put on your wedding gown of
black lace tattered & torn,
feathers & thorns, thistles & braids
behind the phantom mask he patiently awaits, so hurry up & don’t be late