The Living

Missed grandma’s funeral,
busy with this and that and
sure no one could stand in.

But I took care to spend
time looking into her blue
and cloudless view of life.

We’d sit for hours on circle,
her dementia forgetting what
was already said minutes before.

And I’m glad to have bought a ticket
for the carousel of her living
than to visit her in repose that wasn’t.

Better to see ‘em alive than dead,
a lifeless mannequin lies
with a disconnected soul, deaf
to the heart’s beating transistor.

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