Someone died today
No headlines
The two lines on page nine taken up with the rescue of the local cat
Just a statistic
Would be sad
But there really wasn’t time for that
The vicar performing a wedding that day
Didn’t really need this
Put out, but would fit it in
The fifty pound fee would come in handy
His parents wouldn’t be attending
He was such a disappointment to them
Could have been a doctor
Instead followed his dream
Sometimes dreams take time
Just like life
Sometimes life is cruel
The dog wasn’t badly hurt
Just dazed when the car hit it
The crowd gathered, concerned
Man's best friend
He lay in the corner, dying
People passed him by
Just a statistic
Following his dream
Into the next life...

Had we but experience, honor, and time; this diffidence Dear is no crime. We could rest and ponder which way to stroll and waste our everlasting day. Thou by the mountains sides old, should gemstones find in fortunes told. I by a tide of slumber did complain. I loved you long before the flood, the falling rain; and you still refuse until the spreading of the news.

My rose heart shouldst grow larger than empires, and you know a millenium should go to praise your fires, and in thine eyes do gaze, and stoke. Three centuries to admire your rising chest, but eternity to the rest; an eon at last to each part, and the final age to cast your heart. For Darling you've earned this state, and I love not spurned at a lower rate.

Hours speed,
Up on weekends and I,
Think about this while,
The smells of soap and sobriety,
Creep like layers of,
A cake that I've just began eating,
But the minutes feel,
Like a,
Laundromat waiting room,
In purgatory,
In between your messages,
That force my,
Script writing pen,
To be set down,
I never am right,
When I try to write,
What your next line will be,
Your smiles are sometimes,
Hidden beneath a,
Sadness,
That I can only try to coax,
With cheese,
To see it's broken body,
But,
That sadness isnt some broken board,
In an old house,
that needs to be fixed
It's needing the,
Appreciation,
That if it was repaired,
It would loose it's history,
And that awesome broken board,
Doesn't make,
The whole whole house,
It makes it,
Unique,
Unique in the way that,
I wake up in the middle of the night,
Grasping my bed,
For,
That person that has never been there,
But,
Is there every night,
I can appreciate the grabbed sheets,
Because I can appreciate the new year,
Like that amazing house with,
History,
I find new things,
New rooms,
With new broken boards,
And new broken bodies,
Except this year I can remember,
All of it,
And,
I got a new batch of cheese,
Time to get oot of the shower,
And,
Walk through,
That first room.