Wouldn’t it be nice, if we could choose a place to die,
Away from the sad hospice, away from where I lie,
Away from grasping relatives, some of whom I don’t even know,
Away from this horrid, miserable place; a place where I didn’t want to go.
Instead I want to be drift away, preferably after noon,
On a day of which is sunny, a death on a sunny, summer afternoon.

I wouldn’t be much trouble, I doubt I’d make much noise.
Just prop me up beside the sea, and let me drift away from
Life’s melee, my body will decide whether or not to stay and will simply
Say, “Well, Amy, let’s call it a day’. Oh I hope that is the way
It shall be, my end, my finality, my gentle demise, a gentle loss
All cast adrift, oh what a boon! On a sunny, summer afternoon.

But alas Death never lets you chose, he’s such a sod, and he can’t lose,
And he’ll catch you when you least expect it, maybe sat on someone’s loo. Or maybe he will be sneaky, and catch you during a wedding toast,
When forward and forth your body pitches, headfirst into cake, in the same place where they’ll have your wake.
Oh no, not here, Death, for heaven’s sake!

And so I have decided how I want to go, and this is how I stand,
With book and deckchair and tea in hand, surrounded by
The Suffolk sands. The sea all calm, the breeze so light,
And if I can have that, I’ll go without fight, or sound or flap,
Or mumble some death-rattle rap, just as long as it’s sunny,
Just shortly after noon,
A quiet death, a gentle demise,
On a sunny, summer’s afternoon.

Amy Gerrard

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-on-a-sunny-summer-afternoon/