John McCullagh June 2, 2008
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My place is neat and clean,
there are no locks on the gate.
It is a quiet area of town.
So why does no one visit me?

My new address was given to all,
even put an ad in the local paper.
People took a note –
surely they can’t have forgotten it?

Days turn to months –
still no one comes.
I start to wonder,
has everyone moved away
and in their haste forgotten to say.

But wait . . .

Someone is coming up the path …

It’s Stevie and Theresa –
I have not seen them for quite a while.

They are carrying something in a bag.
Selfishly I wonder can it be for me?
If it is, what can it be?

It is for me:
there is a bunch of flowers inside.

They are laid on my grave . . .

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