At the Graveside

A cold, windy November morning,

the sun provides little warmth

as we sit in chairs under an awning.

In the casket, he lies,

not a wretch, but a man I love,

his passing my life’s eclipse.

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This poem appears in That’s Life: New and Selected Poems. Click the link below to hear me read it and sing a song I sang at my late husband’s graveside almost three years ago.

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https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/15213189/at%20the%20graveside.mp3

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Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author

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