What’s lurking there, beyond your pail,
Behind your picture, past the nail.
What comes next, once your song is over,
When your lease is up, and you found your closure.

What happens once your bread goes stale,
When your gears give up and begin to fail,
What happens once your jokes gets told,
When the laughter stops, and your gags grow old,

What happens once your number’s punched,
After grapes get eaten, chewed and munched,
After biscuits bitten, dunked and crunched.
Once your bones go brittle, and back gets hunched.

What happens once your debt gets paid,
When you’re beyond regret, and being afraid,
When you’ve come to terms with the bed you’ve made
When your night times churn and your days gets frayed.

What happens once you clean the lens
When the bell gets told, and the chime it ends,
When the room grows cold, and they call your friends,
Once your life and death, it spins and blends.
© James Moynihan