ding… ding… ding…
bong… bong… bong…
another day the bells announce
that someone else has gone
ding… ding… ding…
bong… bong… bong…
three seconds pass between each chime
of this voiceless, gloomy song
ding… ding… ding…
bong… bong… bong…
reminding me so frequently
that life’s not very long
ding… ding… ding…
bong… bong… bong…
must make the most of what i’ve got
before the got has gone
ding… ding… ding…
bong… bong… bong…
persists inside my mind
ding… ding… ding…
bong… bong… bong…
when will the tolls be mine?
except no bells will ring for me
no priest will speak my name
no body will be carried forth
to rot in some marked grave
just as the notes that disappear
when all the bells have calmed
thoughts of me will likely be
forgotten before long
ding… ding… ding…
bong… bong… bong…
Dog-eared Stories by anne celano frohna 