Wouldn’t it be nice, if we could choose a place to die, <br />Away from the sad hospice, away from where I lie, <br />Away from grasping relatives, some of whom I don’t even know, <br />Away from this horrid, miserable place; a place where I didn’t want to go. <br />Instead I want to be drift away, preferably after noon, <br />On a day of which is sunny, a death on a sunny, summer afternoon. <br /> <br />I wouldn’t be much trouble, I doubt I’d make much noise. <br />Just prop me up beside the sea, and let me drift away from <br />Life’s melee, my body will decide whether or not to stay and will simply <br />Say, “Well, Amy, let’s call it a day’. Oh I hope that is the way <br />It shall be, my end, my finality, my gentle demise, a gentle loss <br />All cast adrift, oh what a boon! On a sunny, summer afternoon. <br /> <br />But alas Death never lets you chose, he’s such a sod, and he can’t lose, <br />And he’ll catch you when you least expect it, maybe sat on someone’s loo. Or maybe he will be sneaky, and catch you during a wedding toast, <br />When forward and forth your body pitches, headfirst into cake, in the same place where they’ll have your wake. <br />Oh no, not here, Death, for heaven’s sake! <br /> <br />And so I have decided how I want to go, and this is how I stand, <br />With book and deckchair and tea in hand, surrounded by <br />The Suffolk sands. The sea all calm, the breeze so light, <br />And if I can have that, I’ll go without fight, or sound or flap, <br />Or mumble some death-rattle rap, just as long as it’s sunny, <br />Just shortly after noon, <br />A quiet death, a gentle demise, <br />On a sunny, summer’s afternoon.<br /><br />Amy Gerrard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-on-a-sunny-summer-afternoon/
