Come with us.
Open your locked doors; your closed mind.
Archaic ways are dead,
And we spread no offerings along the coffin elm.
Forward is the way of the universe.
You are a person like me,
And they are a person like him.
When deemed unfit to move up in the world,
Along with the rest,
You are delivered six feet down.
Horizontal regrets.
But a regret reverberating too late,
Won’t be loud enough to penetrate the fertile earth,
In which we grow the flowers you cut;
The forsythias we frolic in your absence.
You wish them forget-me-nots,
But not one will remember your thoughts.