The Wake

It is lonely in here
even though the house is full.

People grab you by the hand
and give it a pull.

Condolences are offered
that make you feel awkward.

Gratitude returned
to those concerned.

Numerous faces
that look out-of-place,

you hold yourself together
and pray for some grace.

Stories told
of him in his youth,

but he’s not here
to tell you the truth.

Drink is consumed
as if there’s a drought,

he would have enjoyed that
without any doubt.

Hours have passed
and the house is now empty.

You look at the food
of which there is plenty.

Pick up a sandwich
and take a small bite

something in there
doesn’t taste right.

You place it back down
and head for the hall

when all of a sudden
it comes to call.

Your knees get weak
and you start to weep,

the sorrow is released
that you had stored deep.

Now on your own
you wail and you moan,

the father you love
will never come home.

art blur burnt candle
Photo by SİNAN ÖNDER on Pexels.com

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