EPITAPH

a stone flung in the air
     will lose its gift of flight
a maiden is no more when
     she's given you her night
a river never flows

     but for the rain
a babe was never born
     without any pain
no lovers ever loved
     and neither did cry
no man has ever lived
     that soon will not die

so shed me no salt tears
     no mournful words repeat
and count not my brief years
     for this life has been sweet