I wrote this poem a couple of years ago. Thinking of many people who were important to me who have passed on.
The Day Of Passing
Today is the day.
There will always be a blessed way
that love has missed the many.
Can it be?
Oh how long can this last?
I see the light but not the day, oh blast!
How could it be?
That it could take my dignity
and my lovelies
away from me?
It’s coming
to my soul.
Can I have a bowl
of candy and a treat
before the fleet
comes hither?
Do not dither.
Please, do not try and keep me
let me see thee
until my heart is content to leave
and do not grieve or feel bereaved,
I have to go.
Please do not make it slow.
What I have to say
is: come what may…
Let me close my eyes
and let’s say our good byes
to all of the try’s
and the lies
that were had
because they were normal
and let’s not be formal…
Remember all of those minutes
that turned into days and years?
And how we wanted those years
and days to pass by as minutes?
Let’s not regret that.
I remember when you were at bat
and won that home run.
So let’s think about that.
I remember with laughter and tears when you sang of love and trust and it rang clean into my soul.
No, it wasn’t a bust,
It was a must.
Please don’t come by my house after I am gone wishing I was there,
please don’t despair.
The broom will always be in the closet
where I always left it, always in dis-repair.
Please don’t call my number wishing for my voice to answer…
Just speak and I will be there
and remember the old messages of love
that were already given.
Do not be driven by this obsession
in your future
because nothing will cure
your heartache.
They say time will, but it never.
You will always suffer, my lovelies.
And never be above
remembering how we were in love.
By Margaret Leora Workman; Warponie Art
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