Polled poetry.

[leondacter]

When old Dottie fell down
like a rain drop
the sun was shining;
the birds chirped as her hip split
and her life fell away
patchinko
enfeebled by time, worn
down.

The birds sang ever
tweet tweet
a casket of lace and gaudy silk
lowered into the
bodied loam;
stratiform,
this rotting tome-
her home.

Margeret cried;
she knew she was next;
one sensed her line approaching
this mortal text;
hiss
hissing the snake that lay
a coil
woven through them all,

each spring is but a prelude
to The Fall.

Poll What do you think of this poem in an easy poll setting?