Posts Tagged ‘Where will you be my friend?’

When the undertaker backs his hearse up to your wide front door

And your body is carried out, to enter it never more,

When in a short while friends gather to weep and to lament

At how young you were, or looked, or how quickly that you went.

Where will you be, my friend?

When cards are sent to family or to life-long married mate

Cementing in memories: the year, month, the circled date

When your son reads the obit and the preacher speaks his part

Trying to give each griever hope, to help their saddened heart.

Where will you be, my friend?

When the long black “car” winds midst the tombs on far, yonder hill

And parks beside your grave (near Aunt Jane and Uncle Will)

When the man of God says, “dust-to-dust, ashes-to-ashes”

And salty teardrops cling to men and ladies eye lashes.

Where will you be, my friend?

When the director hands out roses from atop your new casket

Or gives your wife, your husband, an especially pretty basket

When people file back to their cars & leave the grave yard “park”

Going on with life – leaving your life-less body in the dark.

Where will you be, my friend?  

– eab, Apr. ‘16

Read Full Post »