Epitaph On A Living Poem by Mary Grace

He showed up like the bridal sun
In my heavy half-lit room
And never was he gone
So was my semi-gloom

He shone on me an eternal sun
Unasked and self-evident was his place above my fading earth
Though seldom was it a tender one
And most of the time even worse

Grounds shivering and shaking ‘neath his unaccustomed sun
He reached for me as if a single hand
And from time to time was he to receive a tender friend
But most of the time I was the lucky one

Yet. – I made him disappear like a fading earth
Though he gave me teeth to bite the rawer bits
I turned down his well-lit hand of priceless worth
And lived by my semi-orphan wits

Now I spend my tumbling days
Neath a widow sky – his mind half-heartedly on me
He thought I was of strange ways
But of stranger ways was he