Around Here. Poem by Dónall Dempsey

His battered old suit
simply his best
by not being worn

hangs on a hanger
waiting for a Sunday
or a christening or a funeral
to come ‘round

but nothing ever comes ‘round
‘round here

...only an occasional Sunday

or the funeral
that is your own

your last chance
to wear your best

now that Eternity
tired of all that time

settles into
your death

like a well worn
suit of clothes

and the occasional Sundays
go on & on
without you.

Yep, nothing happens much
‘round here

‘cept Death

and Life is glad
of the rest.