Front Page of the Mourning News
read your name in the paper today,
saw your sad eyes on the front page,
and the headline said, "life is a bad dream."
but to me, honey, that's no new news--
between the black and white print,
our moods fade into shades of grey,
and the sky has veiled her face with a sheet of grey,
while her tears are the forecast for today;
i'll take her portrait and make a print
and paste it on this scrapbook page
to remember your eyes and this sad news
that suspended my soul like in nightmares and dreams.
yes, and i know your bittersweet dream,
stored now only in your soul and matter grey;
when you heard the breaking news,
did you know, did you think of where you'd be today?
did you feel the flaming hands that turned the page?
did you, inside your dark, read the fine print
that we, with every eyelash, finger print,
strand of dna, and breath, and soul, and dream,
will fade, our stories faint on this page
all colored with green and black and brown and grey?
so where, my love, are you today?
because when i heard the news
that you were gone, the heart-breaking news
that you'd finally flown away, i read again the print
you left engraved on my heart, and today
i longed to touch your love again, but you are in that dream
that came when you "shuffled off this mortal coil" and "the grey
rain-curtain of this world passed away," and your brief page
of a life is now an earlier part of the story, a page
in the past of our collective narrative, good news
for one wh never put much stock in the grey
shadows of the present, in the large-type print
it tried to feed you, but your dream
will not die like your bones and blood did today,
but i, in print, on your tombstone grey,
will tell the news to the world today:
"on his life's page, he wrote of a glorious dream."