"i loved that seamstress, if only i told her"

it seems my time is up

as i pause the moments i have

theres no more quiet mourning

no whimper, as I ready for my tolling

as i put on my finest suit

a business card, a seamstress' signature

occupying my gloves

as if the universe too remembers

the tiny adjustments, and needlework

everything she put into

the perfect suit, before my first bill

a payment in signature, under funeral bells

that perfect suit, is my final courier

with more words than the coffin, it will yell

"I promise I did find love"

more words, than i ever did tell