by | Oct 20, 2007 | Poetry | 0 comments

He died alone in a furnished room
A crumpled duvet lay cold upon his form
In the kitchen, an inherent reminder of a simple,
Last unhurried meal, micro waved for one
Grains of rice, defying removal remain their still
Shelf upon shelf of escapism from reality
James Bond 007 ejected in the video
Is this who aspired to be in his mind?
Did he imagine a woman bathed in gold was his?
I’d like to think so.
A few possessions lay scattered
An old photograph, no frame; treasured.
They stood in this furnished room, paying their last respects
Good on yer’ Shane and goodnight, God bless
Their was someone who cared.


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