The Afterlife

A very dark and serious poem about death and the afterlife. Or at least, my dad's version of dark and serious.

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The Afterlife

The widow in her bed awoke
A voice called out her name
‘Mabel, Mabel, can you hear me?’
Chilling the air from whence it came

She stared into the darkness
And tremblingly replied
‘Henry darling, is that you?’
Though she knew that he had died

‘Yes, my dearest, it is me.
Didn’t I say that when I died
I would contact you again
From beyond the other side

‘Oh, Henry, Henry, how are you?
How is life beyond the grave?
Is it nice in paradise?
How do you pass the time of day?’

‘Oh, it’s lovely, Mabel darling,
Here the sun shines all day long
So every morning when I wake
I just burst into song.

‘I have some bread for breakfast
And then go down for a swim
I stroll along the gardens
And frolic in the wind

I have some bread at lunchtime
And take another dip
I mate with several females
Then take a little kip.

‘I eat some bread for supper
And take a final splash
It’s so serene and peaceful
No need to fret or dash’

‘But Henry, when you were alive’
The widow sternly said,
‘You were always in a rush
And you never ate your bread.

‘As for swimming, you astound me,
It was something that you hated
You couldn’t even swim, my dear
And we certainly never mated!

‘The afterlife has changed you so’
Henry answered, ‘It’s just luck,
For when I was upon the earth
I was not a little duck!’

30 November 2010