::05:19:08::

::: A Simple Kind of Year for Dying :::

A simple seat toward the family section- I sit.
After the tumultuous steps taken toward the, what once was person-
“The forehead cross”, an old dance step never forgotten.

You stare coquettishly at the shell.
The face pushed back with perfumes and plaster.
Hands locked praying for eternity-
Attached to the comment "she doesn't look good, does she?"

But you can't tell, really, truly,
The two of you had never met when she lived.
It is only now in death that the acquaintance has been made.
As you sit, in your assigned seat, you wonder...

Her morning routine, favorite movie, nostalgic vacation spot.
Famous catch phrase, deepest desire.
Just as you relax into the chore,
It jolts while you stare, a slip of the eye.

For one very important second you believe the dead have been raised.
As the feeling passes-
The flutter of the room comes back into place.
A simple day, all of it is simple.

Written by: ~ Megan Lohne