Basic Black
Basic black, they chatter like
fiancees choosing flatware,
obits their compulsion,
scanning through the
fine print for fatalities today.
"Albert Johnson, such
a young one, taken by his
Maker, leaving children,
such a shame!" A hunger for
the details drives these gannets
to their prey. They're not too far
behind, and that's the reason
for their passion,
death and taxes, final call.
Professional, they'll travel
thirty miles to pay respects,
their only consolation
now that Frank and Jim are gone.
Memories are treasures
they will contemplate, while they wait
in resignation, ready for their turn.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment