Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

–W. H. Auden

I Am 22

Hello Nana



I want to introduce myself

I graduated college today

celebrated another mother’s day

fell in love

learned to take the curve without brakes

sing your favorite songs

fry chicken

grow my hair to match yours

bake cinna buns

remember your funeral

suck less at math

drink peppermint tea since that’s all you ever gave me when I was sick

I am 22 and you didn’t get to know me

I am 22

and I still miss you