Sunday, August 12, 2012
Sunday Poem: Funeral
[Click on the photo to enlarge it]
Funeral
At the service, a woman rose
Then looked down, cleared her throat
And said, voice shaky:
"He made the best ham sandwich."
Some of them laughed
Some were confused
But those who knew best
Breathed out in sadness
(you do know that sound).
They each knew a moment
Some time of hardship
They sat at his table
And he would make lunch.
Bread, ham, a slice of bad cheese.
The hum of the fridge.
He understood, nodding:
"Yes."
With him, just a sandwich,
But it was the same
As fish by the shore
So humbly made.
He was missed.
Too few cook like him.
Comments:
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I love the "slice of bad cheese." That's a great detail that puts this man and what he did in a different category.
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