Unintended to depart but it's been a good run

Funerary rights
clacking across the floor as polished black dress shoes,
thin long laces to match.

a dimly lit room crackling by a fireplace
reminds me of mourners,
widows,
gold diggers,
grandmothers passing.

once filled warm hospital beds
now stained,
changed white again,
ready for the circular hourly rounds of nurses bleached smiles.

a batch of fresh air cooked up,
smells like childhood off the well seasoned cast iron skillet.

a set of wooden steps at the Heiskell mercantile,
mother holding our hand as we dangle to reach the next foothold in life.

we need not brace for the impact striking out at us
for landing in a coffins lining is a soft soft fall.