CI 5410 Week 4.3 - Poem #3: "R.I.P."

R.I.P.

When I am dead, my dearest,
don’t you dare dance upon my grave;
my heart has grown rigid,
rests from your wandering gaze.

Though death now keeps my conscience,
dance far away from me;
don’t chance my bones collecting,
an essence of a beat.

When I am dead, my dearest,
don’t you dare dance upon my grave;
my heart has grown rigid,
at last enjoying peace.