At The End Of The World; An Ode To Family
Funny, what the end could mean,
when it only ushers memories of days beginning
Trick and treats, it trickled;
the goods we laughed and jiggled,
and the bads we travailed, and pickle.
Our little world was rocked with its ‘ends’,
Mama’s sabbath rice treat to spirit that never bends;
over a steaming rite, lows made aright.
Please, world, while you end, right!,
build a wall round my memories’ site.
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