DRINKING A DEAD MAN’S BEER
Someone poured a stein for the deceased
and set it on the mantle.
It had warmed but wasn’t flat.
The sun danced off the lake
which should have been ice-covered
but was bare as the hands wrapped in a rosary.
Let them wonder that you walked
amongst their grieving
and finished your final beer unfettered.
I thank the G-Man for providing an outlet for 55 of my wayward words come Friday. And let's remember that this is supposed to be fiction. I wouldn't want you to think I'd actually do such a thing.
TGIF. Keep warm and in good company.