Ode to Karen
2006-2007
I always thought that when you died,
You'd float to the top, not lay and hide.
Oh, how I weep, I am so greif-stricken
As the water in your bowl was starting to thicken.
For three days now you have not moved one bit,
When I tell Emory, she'll throw a fit!
So this is how it ends, on a hunger strike
Never learned to read, sing or ride a bike.
Or was it the water, was it just too cold,
but as far as fish go, you were pretty old.
Your fish bowl was turning a nice shade of green,
It's just one of the the things that I hate to clean.
Karen, we'll miss feeding you every day,
You had a good life, now goodbye we must say.
Rest in Peace, Karen, I'll try not to gush,
Our friendship ends here, and now I must flush.
I always thought that when you died,
You'd float to the top, not lay and hide.
Oh, how I weep, I am so greif-stricken
As the water in your bowl was starting to thicken.
For three days now you have not moved one bit,
When I tell Emory, she'll throw a fit!
So this is how it ends, on a hunger strike
Never learned to read, sing or ride a bike.
Or was it the water, was it just too cold,
but as far as fish go, you were pretty old.
Your fish bowl was turning a nice shade of green,
It's just one of the the things that I hate to clean.
Karen, we'll miss feeding you every day,
You had a good life, now goodbye we must say.
Rest in Peace, Karen, I'll try not to gush,
Our friendship ends here, and now I must flush.
posted by Angie at 7:36 PM
2 Comments:
Move over Maya Angelou. A new poet is born.
oh boy. for a minute there i thought i remembered that your grandmother who just passed away was named karen.
when i got to the part about her bowl, i read "bowel" and i was a little confused at the tongue in cheek nature by which you were speaking of your deceased grandmother.
fish.
bowl.
not dead grandma.
got it.
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