Rat-A-Tat the door knocker sang
The Caretaker, looked concerned
Can you come with me
I think we have a deaden?

Eight thirty, the flats were quiet
Where to I asked? – Eighth floor,
Was his simple reply -we got to the front door
Open the letter-box and smelt!

I did, “cabbages and kings”
Immediately hit me,
A smell so unmistakeable
Yep, I confirmed – he’s a deaden!

Locksmith was called
He turned up within the hour
Police were called, after he attended
They came, in minutes.

The locksmith took only minutes
To slip the front door lock
The full stench, of death
Erupted from the flat.

Experience, had taught me
The next steps to take
Down to the office,
Next of kin, on the flat file.

The police, had reams of paperwork to fill in
Coroner’s office to contact
Senior officer to confirm
Sudden unexpected death.

Later that day, two undertakers
Pulled the body-bag out on a gurney
The smell, lingering on the route taken
“Febreze” liberally sprayed.

David, was a big gentle man
No problem as a tenant
Kept himself to himself
Died on the floor, near his bed.

Was it, an illness?
Was it, just time?
Was it an unfortunate fall
Only God would know –

Eventually, it comes to us all.


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