A Christmas Present

She sat on the moth-eaten couch.
Rheumatic Legs,
Frozen by the news.
They were to go shopping.
The wreath remained
unpacked- paper, hiding
its purpose.

knock

They brought, a box and a letter,
in their best black
and sombre expressions.
Muttering an apology,
they laid it down,
with a little salute
and left.

tears

Broken spectacles fogged
with memories
of life,
she placed the wreath,
decorated fancy,
with Christmas joy,
upon the flag-clad box-

a coffin paperholder*.

*Graham Greene, The Comedians

Rest in Peace

They mocked
They ignored
They cheated
They shunned,

You,
For being who
You were.

You,
Cut your ears,
Filled your pocket
With memories
To dissolve,
Between the Acts,
Shooting your head
In a field
Of opinions,
And breathed
A room full
Of deception.

Perhaps,
You took
Their world
Too seriously.