Doctors, lawyers, and random people, including family members

tell me, "at least he died at home".

(in the hospital, he begged to come home)

(in the hospital, the doctors said he needed sub acute care)

or they say, " he's in a better place"...

but he's not here, with us

Every night I fall asleep, waking from some dreams or

nightmares, looking for him.

I bought fresh apricots last week, for him

but all that's left here are most of his ashes,

hundreds of books, model trains, tools, his boots,

his clothes, a cheap compass he won at Bingo,

still clipped onto a belt loop of his flannel-lined pants,

and sad hearts.

I'm telling you, despite all that, it's possible

to fall back in love, even stronger than

before death; it's just different.

Brevity Quest 2016 111

( with apologies to Shakespeare)

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