THE MORTICIAN’S TALE

Cool, white, clean slabs of marble
The dead never feel the cold
Occupied by corpses of many a kind
Some beautiful, some young, some old

There is row upon row
Of white cotton sheets
Some stained with blood
Revealing toe-tagged feet

Oneday one went missing
So the mortician confides
The window had been broken
……………..From the inside!!!

(c) Chris Ankin 2707/09