Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Ballad of Unrequited Rhymes

This works best if you read it out loud.

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                       Come gather 'round, friends, and listen to my song,
                       It's 'bout a girl named Marie, who never did right.
                       It's a story most tragic, but it ain't very slow,
                       And it'll bring you to tears sure as the sun shines photons.

                       Her father did toil on a Nebraskan corn field,
                       And his pain and his sorrow, he kept them out of sight.
                       And when Marie was nearby, he kept his lips closed,
                       And after slaving all day, he'd lie awake through the dark.

                       But now his eyes did grow dim, and the days hurried fast,
                       And he knew that his vision for long couldn't remain.
                       And for his fate, it seemed, the die was already thrown,
                       And his labors would likely be lost all in ineffectualness.

                       His son might have helped, and lifted the weight,
                       but his kidneys were failing in a cruel twist of life.
                       Their income too little, for surgery costs so high,
                       Father only could sob at the grave of his spouse.

                       Now when Marie turned twelve, there was no celebration.
                       She merely prayed to the Lord and asked for a gift
                       'Twas not for money, nor food, but an organ donor.
                       Yet as her brother grew worse, her plans did change.

                       On the eve of that Christmas, she poured her thoughts on a note.
                       In her brother's stocking she left it, and this is what she composed.
                       "This ship is fast-sinking, and I cannot tread water,
                       Its hull is fast-flooding, and it cannot be patched.

                       But with these gifts that I offer, you'll float without fail:
                       At once all a sealant, plank, hammer and screws.
                       (Just to be clear, dear brother, what I mean in particular,
                       is that my kidneys are now both yours to transplant)."

                       When her father found her the next morning, convulsed on the floor,
                       near an empty bottle of endosulfan, he knew without doubt
                       that she'd drank the dread poison and was gone forever hereafter,
                       and he cried right beside her till he almost passed into unconsciousness.

                       Now three days later Marie's brother finally found her note,
                       And the words struck into his heart like lightning flashes.
                       And with his mouth all agape and voice collapsed in his throat
                       he slowly turned his gaze to the urn with her ashes.