Posted: February 4, 2015 in Poetry
Tags: ,

A surprisingly sunny day to be dressed in black. The shades some wear…
hides the tears.
Some say some funny words about the man they knew.
They listen in silence and nodding and laughing.

However… they weren’t talking about you.
Two holes and thus two lives. One touched more lives.
An eagle’s view would show the sadness.
No words spared to praise your neighbour.
It makes you wonder why they gave them for a corpse.

It is probably the right thing to do.
Tradition is the old black… and only so often a glance at the man lowering your box.
They cry because dead men can’t hear.
They laugh because they say things not there.
They hug for they fear.

This is what I have to say about them. I knew a group of people once who were very funny.
Yeah… I remember this one time… this one…
their noses were runny. They always wore the most stylish clothing.
No, they were never boring.
Much more I can’t say…
good men
good men


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