Obit
They raised themselves from adult to old,
schooled their grandchildren in the art
of sitting in a chair and watching the world
pass them by, showed those children how to
fiddle with their hands like playing with time.
All that gray hair on their head a countdown,
just another way of saying settled and
content in every language except death
and obituaries. They lived and they died.
Their bodies summed up in the column
space of the local newspaper in past
tense, only read by those closest to death.
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