Most Good People Get To Die In Their Sleep / In Loving Memory Of Cedar Gay Poem by Ted Sheridan

Aunt Cedar knew she was dying a little bit here a little bit there
The doctors all gave their opinions in three minute briefs once a week
Her family had been there supporting her as she was injected
With needles filled with Death's drugs and an Angel's relief
She was happy right up until the end when she just closed her eyes
Her breathing became as silent as the crickets outside who sensed her passing
She had always said not to harm the crickets in the garage
Even when the sound of their constant chirping would disturb her sleep
They were quiet now out of respect for their protector
The lone light in her room flickered and went out
Her husband of sixty years fell to her side and placed a kiss on his bride's lips
Her sons and daughters wept and held each other tight
She always wanted them to all be home at once and they were....
Just for her....
Poor Uncle Charlie, he begged her not to leave him here alone
Even though he knew it was meant to be this way
Because no one loved God or people quite like Aunt Cedar

2007 © T Sheridan