Written for:  Poetic Asides November 2016 Chapbook Challenge-Day 30
Write a last chance poem.

Here lies Lucky
always plucky.
Lost all, owed big time,
rubbed out in his prime.

At saloon called Last Chance,
he drank too much, died without pants.

A miser ‘till the end,
only eternity will he spend.

He bargained for wealth
then lost his health.
No time to for elation
at his cremation.

Wish for John Jones–
die before getting old.
He got his wish
He’s 30 and cold.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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