He slipped away in secrecy:
no tears fell
over the shaded grave,
tucked away in a corner
...
The falling sun spreads light upon
These hands that time has torn
Deepened lines, from nets entwined,
Have left the skin all worn.
...
They Didn’t See Him Leave
He slipped away in secrecy:
no tears fell
over the shaded grave,
tucked away in a corner
where moss grows thick on stone.
No token whimper
or arm-around-shoulder affection.
Taking nothing with him
but receives
his own six-foot of land,
clean black shoes replace old
black bags.
He has left the frozen doorway
and rests on a bed of clay.
And they will not see him
and wave and smile as
they go – just like before.
He leaves to the sway
of the willow
in a corner tucked away.