Sailor
and he was sitting there
in his wheelchair
staring at the red roses
in a day he’d be dead
his small life
a black and white clipping
his wife a widow
his kids feuding
could tell he was tired
of living
he just wanted to drift
on out to sea
guess they had room
on the boat, a seat set aside
the print was barely dry
when the publisher said, “sorry …”
on to the next tragic story
TL