Alone in death by Charles M. Moore

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Alone in death

Where are all the mourners
who said they were my friends
the girls who cried when we split up
had no tears in the end
the endless conversationalists
struck dumb and fail to speak
and all who said they'd miss me
somehow now can't stand and weep

Where are all the singers
who wanted to lament
the writers and the poets
with words they never meant
fairweather friends and neighbours
that said there's nothing left
in life you can be so alone
and still alone in death.

Charles M. Moore

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Fred Babbin (12/18/2007 2:07:00 PM)
But how do you know it will be that way? I often think about that. At one time, I was somewhat disturbed by the thought - not knowing who will come. But then, I realized that there is no alternative for 'what is', so I quit thinking about it.

Will Barber (7/4/2006 11:22:00 PM)
A stark and heart-rending (and eloquent) poem. The last line contains hope.

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Charles M. Moore (1953 june / Glasgow Scotland.)