THE DAY MEN WALKED UPON THE MOON
The day men walked upon the moon
my father died,
attended kindly by an unloved wife
who, for charity in the face of death,
briefly suspended
the bitterness brewed of life.
Dry-eyed we watched the television;
flickering pictures from outer space
made history.
But behind my eyes on a white pillow
was only my father’s yellowed face.
Death, like love, in our family
is decently disposed of
without undue commotion.
Tears were shamed to silence long ago.
There is no superfluous emotion.
excellent poem, glad I saw another member reading it and decided to read it too!
Thank you everyone for reading.
A well-penned poem of sad memories, forever fastened to a world event as often is the case. A difficult read reflecting the reality you experienced at the time. The layout too, helps give deeper thought to the messaging.
This is a well crafted poem which conveys a raft of meanings and roots that coloured and continue to colour your lives. I trust that since love has made a hell of a commotion in your life.
regards
B