Virgin of the obituaries
By
James Bredin
It was the nee in her obituary name that caught my eye,
I remembered her, a virgin in the fifties and I knew why,
She nearly drove me mad in those days so long long ago,
Strutting her big hips, up and down the street all aglow.
Some guy, older, bolder and richer than me got her attention,
They went off, got married and had babies; did I mention?
They slowly got older and eventually they too died,
Obituary lives all spent with lots and lots of pride.
And here I am, a keen observer of the passing parade,
As times passes by so slowly, decade after decade,
Sometimes but not often, I ask myself what it all means,
Does it amount to anything or are we worth a hill of beans?
And not being very religious, I don’t have the solutions,
Not like the priests, ministers, praying for your contributions,
But even they are caught in this trap of life and death,
And no one has the answers and we eventually run out of breath.
Friday, May 04, 2007
By
James Bredin
It was the nee in her obituary name that caught my eye,
I remembered her, a virgin in the fifties and I knew why,
She nearly drove me mad in those days so long long ago,
Strutting her big hips, up and down the street all aglow.
Some guy, older, bolder and richer than me got her attention,
They went off, got married and had babies; did I mention?
They slowly got older and eventually they too died,
Obituary lives all spent with lots and lots of pride.
And here I am, a keen observer of the passing parade,
As times passes by so slowly, decade after decade,
Sometimes but not often, I ask myself what it all means,
Does it amount to anything or are we worth a hill of beans?
And not being very religious, I don’t have the solutions,
Not like the priests, ministers, praying for your contributions,
But even they are caught in this trap of life and death,
And no one has the answers and we eventually run out of breath.
Friday, May 04, 2007
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