Poem Written in the Wings of My Own Wake
Who wouldn't prefer
to be remembered
for something kind
he did, anything really
selfless or the way
he sang or shot a basketball,
it almost doesn't matter what.
I can't think of one person
who lived his whole life
without pissing off some
coworkers, friends, the postman,
the neighbors. Dearly departed,
think of the man
who buried him, who marked
his grave. Both go home & sing
their children to sleep & wake
to one fewer sun left in their lives.
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