Sunday, May 13, 2012
Spring came and bitter presents were exchanged,
There was no outward sigh or crossing arranged;
Just the dozen other passengers of the bus weighed
On the mind of a member of a hospice who decayed.
The knife was awaiting him, approaching the island,
Which was his body and trumpet, the very island.
On the crossing he determined the years,
A dozen other passengers, who came with beers.
He was greeted by the regarding couples,
And so aboard the ferry of earth was a resident of archangels.
The only guilt suffered was with a smile,
There was no reason to distrust the other file.
One night, over tea.