Poem: July 6, 2019

Just a Thought

What if, instead of a casket in the ground,
it was an old steamer trunk in the attic?

Or a small, tethered dirigible floating
just above the herb garden?

Or a bunk in a sleeper car on a train
that winds a long, slow loop through
wild and mountainous terrain?

Or what if it was an old brass trophy
on a bookshelf in a grand library
where secret societies meet?

Or in a jewelry box in the inside pocket
of a Jazz Era tuxedo that you keep
hanging in the back of a wardrobe?

Or in a canteen that hangs beside the door
on a screened porch in an abandoned cabin
that looks out on the overgrown trail head?