Last night I dreamed a dream . . .

Of A celebration of life I read.

“I’ll go and have some fun.” I thought.

“This ole house is boring and dead.”


I dressed in my best attire

To be the bell of the ball.

But when I arrived, to my surprise,

There was no party at all.


No balloons or banners were seen

Hanging beautifully on the wall,

Nor was there a bar in the room

With refreshing drinks for us all.


But in the front of the room there lay

A dark gray casket opened wide

And mourners gathered all around

With tears flowing from their eyes.


“A funeral!  What a mistake!

This is no party at all,

But it’s a solemn celebration

For a soul answering her call”


“Who could that be lying there,”

In a sad, soft voice I sighed.

When I walked to view the body

I mourned a mournful cry.


It was I . . . lying quietly asleep

As if in a peaceful dream,

But when my life paraded by

I saw a ghastly scene.


My face was wrinkled and grotesque

With worms crawling through my eyes.

My   hair was gray, unkempt, and wooly.

It was sad to see how I lived and died


I never thought of this before,

But to our funeral we all must go,

And see and hear our lives replayed

Like a drama upon a stage.


When your time on earth is spent

And before you . . . your life is played,

Make sure that after you see you,

You will be proud of the choices made.