Subject:  Elegy
Date:  11 March 1999

If I should die, then who will mourn me?
He with whom I share my bed,
Parents to whom I was born;  the
Rest, my friends, will just instead
Nod and sigh:  "Ah, she was ever
Witty, charming, pleasant, clever.
We will miss her presence here."
Then the talk will turn to beer,
Stock market trends, the latest spot;  in
Three weeks I'll be mentioned twice:
"Oh yeah, I knew her, she was nice."
In three months' time, all but forgotten.
Yet I can't fault them, nor place blame:
I can't say I'd not do the same.