By Andrew R. Duckworth
Some choose to dwell in green meadows,
Some choose a lake of crimson rage,
Others prefer a ship on seas
Sailing ‘til the end of the age.
Some choose pride, waving banners high,
Some choose greed with emerald eyes,
And some prepare a sail for air
And make their dwelling place the sky.
Some choose the grit beneath their nails,
Some choose, in vain, the perfect look,
And some perspire in blazing fire,
Admired for the risk they took.
And all will take their final breath
At end of life when facing death.
I pray they cared to be prepared
And be in peace when put to rest.