Memorial Poem by Seaman Nemo

grandfather sitting by the table
on the outside
the wind was moulding the trees
his hands
the instruments
doing something
making something
out of something
making a sandwich
to a grandchildren

on that very table
lies now an empty cup
with dregs
at the bottom
water in it has dried
its the warmth
long gone now
just like a soul
it also has joined a great ocean
somewhere out there

at the chapel a silk lined coffin
a hand pocket of the Death