Afterthought Poem by Charlotte Ballard

Afterthought



The day after you die
Your belonging are parceled out
And your bills are marked deceased.
Your honey kisses another and
Your children hug their new
Mother. A few tears, if you're
Lucky, hover that
Hang softly and
Sparkle like fine crystal
Dusty and forgotten.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Topic(s) of this poem: deceased,forgotten
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