And of course all the children have heard about the funeral homes. Cold, nasty, make their business in knowing when people are going to die. Not how, as far as anyone can tell, just...when. A lot of kids have had relativesgreat-aunts, great-uncles, maybe great-grandparentsstart getting advertisements, maybe been shown them to know what to look out for, but not Anita. She
until it's the last cup that she touched,
and a car
is just a way from a to b
until it's the way that she arrived
A picture in a frame
is lovely to see, even if only ever viewed
in the background, passively,
but when the image
locks in place
the last smile on her face
then your grief turns to regret
for the memory
trapped beneath the glass.
An old pair of slippers,
tucked neatly beside the door,
every time you cross the threshold,
until the day
when you have to toss those old things away
and they are as heavy as anchors
and more treasured
A scent that fills your head,
the comfort of a familiar figure and
a warm embrace,
but when you can no longer detect it's fragrance,
it becomes a mystery
impossible to solve,
a memory lost to time
like the ghost of a kiss
lost somewhere among the rest.
A name is just a name
until it's torn from the tongue and carved
into the stone,
and a dream
is a just a thing between the nigh
Mother always said that raindrops were the tears of the people of the heavens, crying because someone great had died.
"Shouldn't it always be raining, then?" I had asked when I first heard this.
"No, only when someone great has died. They might not have known they were great, society might not have known they were great, but the tears still flow," she patiently explained to me.
"Did it rain when Ben-jay-mine Franklin died?" I questioned.
"Yes, it rained when Ben-jay-mine Franklin died," Mother answered.
I waited a moment, then ventured again, "Did it rain when Thomas Ed-son died?"
"Yes, it rained when Thomas Ed-son died."
"Did it rain when Rosey Parks died?"
"Yes, it rained when Rosey Parks died."
"Did it rain when Father died?"
My mother paused for a second, looking down at her clasped hands in her lap. She finally replied, "Your father isn't dead yet." With that, she got up and put me down for a nap, beginning dinner.
It did not rain the d
sink has me grinding my teeth
what a waste you said, and in vain
tried to tighten the taps as I laughed
a waste!indeed I am.
you told me, pride is a virtue you seem to be lacking
and I said pride leaves the blinds open and you laughed
and left the the blinds open.
Shiny black patent shoes, I watched as you were
lowered into the ground and wondered if that's where life got you,
if that's where life always got you,
what good is pride anyway?