I walk a few blocks
Or so to the bus stop,
On my way to work,
Every morning,
Except for Tuesdays
And Wednesdays.

Each time,
A motionless possum
With a ****** mouth
Greets me, as he lays
Comfortably on his hard bed.

Each time,
Becoming more
And more impersonal.

A full coat of fur
Replaced with a
Grey mushy mass.
The undisputed fate
Of all living beings.

My possum friend,
Will not be the only
One who does not
Leave a legacy behind.



(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith