Tirzah Juarez

My Dead Compadre

You will rise again

To tell of your stories

Though you\'re enslaved beneath

The morning glories

 

They think you to be chicken feed

Try the air up here

Tis all you need

 

Every morning,

Whether the day be lenient

Come rain or hell

Though inconvenient 

 

I\'ll pass your dwelling

In case you may knock, dear friend.

Help you to crawl out,

And teach you to walk again.