I wrote this poem in response to the topic 'death by unusual circumstance'. I hope some of the other writers from the group post theirs too, most were extremely funny for such a morbid subject area...
A Girl and a Poet
One winter’s day a girl went for a walk
but reaching down to pick up her glove,
Her body saved a falling man; her life cut short.
“You saved my life,” he said, “You must be my true love!”
She had loathed men all her life and took
measures to avoid mixed groups and manly places.
He, a lovesick poet, did not even look
before he leapt to meet his maker.
The tragedy! So young to die this way,
yet nothing now could stop her soul from leaving.
The irony, however, wasn’t lost as she lay
beneath a grateful man; she was seething.
The poet thought her final words confessed of love,
In fact, she mumbled, “Damn that blasted glove!”