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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

About the Author

Region, Country: San Francisco Bay Area - USA, USA

Favorite Poets: Bukowski, Billy Collins, Ted Kooser, Haiku & Harvey Kurtzman (a visual poet, of sorts)

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Comments

Geezer

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.