It isn't difficult, dying perennially disappointed. There's a comforting ooze that cozies okay, Down here at the bottom. Promise. Why fidget in time's indifference anyway? Lie calm in your slippers like the rosy anointed, Note the replete applique of your surplice. Perhaps a fashionable coffin will ease your unease. Get your tomb topped by a flattering bust-- No more nude, embarrassed mirrors. After all, dying leaves no one else to please. You needn't, you must not, fear her; Death's just being ground resolutely to dust. Repeat after me: whatever was said, was said. Lovers only say lovely things in the night Freed from harsh, photographic light. Repeat after me: whatever you did, you did. You'll get on alright, my dear, my dunce, When you learn to love your ignorance. It isn't difficult, dying perennially disappointed. And, let's be honest, it's not as if you shot For the stars--and almost, but never quite, made it. Please, drink your tea while it's still hot. Around the next corner is a bus with your name on it. When we bury you, we won't inter your sonnet. Promise.