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42. That empty chair © Bruce Goodman 22 September 2017 |
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(The poetic form selected for this month is the English or Shakespearean sonnet.) |
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That empty chair I see across the table Reminds me; I must phone my headstone mate And ask him if in any way I’m able To cut on costs without been thought a cheapskate. Quite frankly, funeral costs went through the roof. The walnut chest you wanted I ignored. Instead I thought of something on the hoof And nailed a box up out of some old boards. I didn’t think too many would attend A funeral service in a pricey hall; The obit. read: No flowers, we don’t intend To celebrate her life and death at all. At least the whole affair has one bright spot: I’ll sell your chair and hope I get a lot. |