I dashed off this poem to relieve some stress. My late husband would laugh, call it a success.
It's meant to be light, lift a spirit or two. I hope you see the humor and can laugh
at it, too!
I visited his grave, but the grave was gone! What? I know spirits travel but this just seems wrong. There's a big hole where the grave used to be. I think someone is playing a big prank on me. On second thought, this is just what he would do to have a big laugh, all his spirit friends, too. I rushed home to see if it was in the back yard, under the pear tree he would loudly disregard. It's not there, but between the roses, it might squeeze. Or under the mulberry that he knows makes me sneeze. Or inside the house, oh please not beside the couch! or under a table, so I'll have to crouch! I open the closet expecting to jump, not there either, but I spy a big lump sitting in his "couch potato" chair; yep, that's where he'd put it, if anywhere. Not there either, now I'm becoming confused. Raced back to the grave and it's still not being used. I checked the marker on the grave next to his. Why he moved it, I can't fathom, but there it is! (This poem needs some explaining, I understand. The grave is where it was, nothing done underhand. A new one will go in next to the one she misplaced. This woman got confused. Could be she's a tad spaced.)
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