Some Little Thoughts
by Raymonde Sacklyn
Requiem
One of our
players is gone.
He left without a word.
And, though we called his name,
It was clear that he had not heard
The players’ pleas:
Thus, he has missed his turn at serve.
His presence is
missed.
He had played up to the age of sixty-nine
So his passing left a horrid void.
But the umpire called for time:
All must obey this man
Who, lovingly, embraces the company of the benign.
Say nothing of
the dead lest it be good
For those gone, cannot defend.
Invisibly, they walk among us.
They do not, in arrogance, pretend
To be that which they are not:
Poor man! Frailty personified! He cannot comprehend.
Life is a leaf,
floating to meet its earthly bed.
Once, having landed, fast does its colour fade.
Though the lungs of the tree
Are minus one alveolus, still can it offer shade.
For the tree shall always live
And all shall remember coloured summers, Godly made.
