I wrote on the first page of my life,

A poem about the grumpy midwife,

In whose hands I had come to birth,

And momma had to endure her wrath.


I wrote about my first day in school,

When papa said I need to go study and be a useful tool,

How I cried pleading with him not to go,

Yet in me a winner he saw,

Thus he said No.


I wrote about my teenage years,

All my longings, frustrations and fears,

My success story I put in bold,

My failures I put in fold.


I wrote about my first love,

Who taught me how to love when I was naive,

My feelings for him I put in paper,

But later evaporated like vapor.


I wrote about my first job,

And a funny story about an evil comb,

That followed an old witch to her tomb,

After she was stoned to death by a mob.


I wrote about my wedding day;

When those solemn vows I did say,

And promised faithfulness till death lay us asunder,

When one of us would lie six feet under.


I wrote about my death,

That day I took my last breath,

As my body lost its strength,

I smiled, for in Christ I had banked my spiritual wealth,

While still on earth.


The Angels are now beckoning,

For I have come to the day of reckoning,

I still will write,

Of this day, when evil deeds are separated with light.


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