That Bag Bone Poem by Walter C. Edwards

Do you look at that bag bone,
that he scarifies his own life,
for your needs,
to make sure you had everything,
as he tolled away to late hours,
laying in wait lonely was he,
did not have time for romance,
or any other family,
just made sure your needs where cared for,
after your mother, his wife left suddenly,
grimy grizzly skin made by working, thin,
still lay in that coffin down the hall,
where no one comes to call.