Fallen

A man walked through the park today;
A tree fell on his head.
One minute strolling home from work,
The next one you are dead.

Seemed like a good idea to him,
A saunter through the park.
One minute snow cascading down,
The next one all is dark.

You never really can predict
When it will be the end,
‘Cause danger lurks and may await
You as you turn the bend.

You can’t prepare so better if
You put it out of mind,
And realize that your swift demise
Might be what fate’s designed.