Saturday 24 September 2016

The Mourner



The Mourner

 

Look now upon the dead man’s face;

Can you not see the empty space?

Deeds left undone and words not said,

Seem bound to fill it, now he’s dead.

Whilst he yet lived, time and again,

You looked on him with such disdain

And disrespect, but when he died,

Remember how you cried and cried?

 

Collecting things that he possessed;

Your mind, it seems, is now obsessed

With every word he’d written down;

Futilities that made you frown,

Worth more now than the rarest stone;

Their precious beauty, yours alone;

A voice recording once absurd

Is memorised now, every word.

 

Do you recall the funeral?

You were the most upset of all:

I saw, and as I watched you cry,

I struggled with an inward sigh:

Tell me, was it your intention

To be the centre of attention?

The face, there framed, above the shelf;

D’you cry for him, or for yourself?


1 comment:

  1. Comments my arse. No one ever visits here 'cept yours truly

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