Written by George Eddie Burks Of St. Micheal’s Church Post 201, Chicago, Illinois.

Was that her I was thinking of.
Why should not I think of her?
She cared for that role,
The one in her life I was.
But she couldnt had me,
And I was contented as that.
Not as my pride nor my failure.
I loved her as my preference.

She did tried though.
To make me her more,
To make more of me.
I was already all that,
All that that had need.
From known pride and failures.
Remaking our preferences.

Yet, she wanted more of me,
The more she can entrusted as me,
Which isn’t not from me,
And all that because I was not had,
By a wanton desire mistaken as a need.
For I knew my pride and my failures,
By preferences that are known as I.

I did need to be that role for her,
Her friend, her lover and her strength.
The one who cared by caring.
The one who love by sheltering.
The one she can call reliant and loyal,
But she or I can’t had this,
Nor remake any of this.
These are my pride and my failures,
All done as my preferences.

This is why I was thinking of her.
Looking at that cage’s latchless door,
I made for us as our togetherness.
To make all that as what I had her for.
Knowing pride can easily marred this,
And either of us can easily fail this.
Fail that that was not meant to be had,
yet built by our preferences for our betterment.
A betterment for both of us as one’s loves.

They all told him
To move on and find another
I felt I was the only one
Who understood,
That there would be no other
Like her, for him.

So I said to Bill it was okay
Okay to feel sorry and to cry
If he wanted to stay alone,
Sleep in and not go out,
Fine by me, I understood.

He stayed in and never came out,
Unless it was with a bottle in his hand
Of something strong smelling
With a burning taste,
All I can ever take to make the pain
Surrender and go away, he said,
Between sips and gulps.

I told him that it was now time to stop mourning,
But the dirge was still playing
The ladies of the house were still screaming
And Bill had only just begun.