Challenge
You're a Pompeiian poet. Volcanic ash is raining down. You write one last poem. What is it?
My Pompeii
As the ash falls and lays
I think back on my childhood days
how we'd laugh and play
in bushes, trees, and far off glades.
I think on my adult ways, how I'd drink and play
and found a wife with which to lay.
With whom I chose to stay
until our children went away
until my wife had passed away
So here, despite the dismay
I'll lay
under the sun, under the ash, on the clay.
On this final day
in my Pompeii.
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