The smell of death outside my door

[ellajam]

.

I smell death outside my door,
so much stronger than before.
I ask the muse, why? Her reply,
"all things must die" she says,
still she loves me as before.

What has her love gotten me,
ashes in a moldy sack, and her
love without a dollar-fifty
won’t get me a cup of coffee,
which the doctors say
I can no longer sup, nor the sugar,
nor the cream. I might as well stay asleep,
for I can have that and more in my dreams.

Hey, dale, nice one.

I love all the little rhymes scattered around the weighty subject. I might have raised "love" up to the line above.

The dollar-fifty made me laugh, we always say "That and a buck fifty gets you on the subway". I think it's 2 bucks now, and the saying probably started when it was a nickel.

I like the clarity of this, gives me a heartache instead of a headache. Thanks for posting it.