Bucket
When I kick the bucket
I want to make it fly,
and maybe knock a star
or two out of the sky.
Then folks who see them falling
will stop and wonder why,
if only for a moment,
on the day I die.
Stephen Brooke ©2023
Silliness and mortality are always a good match. A bit of light verse that, as usual, grew from a phrase that popped into my head. No forethought or agenda on these, nor do they particularly express my own view of things. My poems are always written by the fictional characters cavorting in my mind.
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