An Urn of Cough Drops Epitaph

Epitaph

I had a suit made for me once,
That fit not half as well
As this one bought from off the rack.
My eyes had vision twenty-twenty,
Yet I amassed a host of frames,
Paned in unrefracting glass.
I had twenty-two brand new shoes,
And yet I wear this single pair,
Which have a hole in either sole.
To an estranged master I prayed each night;
Whom nothing singly nor collectively dramatic,
Had caused my faith to shatter.
 I could have cast a die at every bend in every road,
 But like the ancient princess who once kissed a princely toad,
 I should have won my fortune doing things that seemed absurd.

The Poems of Mister Miner | Commentary by R. L. Seasoning | Next Poem