July 25, 2016

May Bed

Everyone lied,  
said you'd be okay.
Then, how you were at peace,
in a better place,
the usual things
people say.
But I saw your face
under troubled brow,
mere words weren't able
to help you, now.
Your bloodless hands
another clue,
not looking like that
when you were you.
I watched as workmen
let you down,
first one shovel, then another,
smoothed the wrinkles,
all around.