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Apr 07, 2026
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Bo Jackson at a Funeral
At his service, I placed a baseball card near the casket
of an amazing athlete we both had admired.
I couldn’t believe my friend was gone.
Something in the heart, I learned.
We both called each other "Bo."
He, out of charity for my feelings.
I called him Bo because of his talent
in sports of all manner.
I cannot recall the details of the card I left for him,
but I remember the finality of the beautiful finish on the coffin.
About This Poem
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft
Comments
Geezer
2 weeks 3 days ago
Numb...
that's how I was, numb. The enormity of his passing, the memories, the years spent together,,, somehow failed to penetrate the fog of being lost. The one thing I do remember, is the lint on his jacket and the heavy aroma of flowers. I am sorry for your loss. ~ Geez.