Wash Over Me

This is the last poem
I'll write
At least for a while
You see I was picking
Rosemary and thyme from
Outside
Out back in
Shakespeare's garden
And I tripped
And fell
Into the pond
The one running lengthwise
Across our property
The one with the goldfish
And the frogs like I heard in Portland
This summer
Hit my head
Unconscious
Like Ophelia dead
Gone
I know you'll miss me
But you never bothered to tell me
While I was alive at least
I've had an accident
Don't you see? 
So may you all.