Poetry

From The Cradle To The Grave

I saw a guy drop at a care center
And a family gathered at a graveyard

I was there. Mirror in hand combing my hair.
I saw the faces of Mourn and clothes of Somber

Everyone thought about the last moment
They spent with him
Will Papa go to hell?
Terry too has sinned

The sins of Terry, awfully scary
I lit a cigarette and on my phone I read
The obituary. As he was being buried
I heard the final howls. The embraces given
The dead, the living.
The thoughts, misgivings

Everyone has to go, yo
As everyone left
The memory of Terry
Began to fade…
But I pulled up a stool
And stayed

I remember Terry.

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