Shampoo [sonnet]
She lingered in the shower a little more,
on rising, to enjoy her new shampoo.
She had to look her best, once past the door.
She manicured her nails that morning too.
The sunlight kissed her face when in the drive;
she breathed the sweetful air into her breast.
“How glad,” she thought, “I am to be alive!”
She stepped into her brand new car, well-dressed.
Three minutes on, a smash, while turning right.
“Such beauty! What a waste!” Then certifies
she didn’t suffer — went out like a light.
So said the doctor, as he closed her eyes.
We never know what jolts this day will bring.
So live each moment as your last… and sing!
© Alan Morrison, 2014
The Naked Troubadour 