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I'm taking a walk to the cemetery this morning
Be back before noontime for crumpets and tea
I have two friends who died not so long ago
They were brothers, and treated me, the same
Had not spoken with them since that night
The night it rained red glass and tears
'Neath th' lights on Dawsonstills Bridge
Sometimes at night, i am awakened by the sound of it
You see, Death....will always find you, when it wants to
Thought it was time i stopped by to say hello
And along the way, i picked you up a gift
Habitual manners taken right to the grave...excuse the levity
'Never visit someone's home empty handed', Mom said...
Flowers are always freshest when laid in the morning dew
Still, by noon's end they'll be wilting in the summerhaze
Lying still, decomposing...and my mind takes to thinking
Just how morbidly apropos, is this gift for your home
As i knee-touch soft soil...place the spray by your stone
[Now peace can be defined in a myriad of ways
But i sware, that serenity had draped its veil, where i stood;
And for the first time since their death, i sensed connection]
So, i filled them both in, on the towns latest scuttlebut
I could almost hear their voices upon the wind-whisps overhead
Took a look at my watch...and it was time to head home
Our time went by so quickly, did it not?
Like breeze through branches... leafless
I really must leave... mortal duties, you know
God, I really miss you guys...Can you hear me?
Yes, you're right..... time, and destiny still be my keepers
But i'll be back soon, to share more news and memories
Just the three of us...yes, we will!
And as i head towards the black wrought iron gates
I look back at the sea, of greystone and crosses....
And in a moment of self-pity, i shout: ...SO, THIS IS IT? !
A sudden, stale mist tails me.....all the way home
Follows me......like a pestilent cat, astray
Made it back before noon.... walked in to the scent
Of tealeaf, and cinamon...and voices of life
Tea and crumpets taste freshest, before noontime
And silk flowers on a table never wilt... decompose
Think i'll take a drive into town...do my chores and such
I'll take an alternate route, around Dawsonstills Bridge
Then again, in truth... does it really matter?
Death.......will always find me, when it wants to....
.......Written August 14th,2007.......
Frank James Christopher Ryan, Jr.
........................F. j. R.........................
Frank James Ryan, Jr
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