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Life in a Glance
January 4, 2020
I glanced at the printed pixels.
They informed me that
Somebody passed last night.
He was young, just 51.
He must have been
Someone… newsworthy,
Now, he sleeps deep
Below, or somewhere above.
As the dirt fell on his grave,
Like salty waves of grain,
Loved ones wept for selfish loss.
Haters smiled but wept inward
At the loss of a reason to hate.
And then there were
The masses of casual glancers,
indifferent, like him.
As I clicked to the next page
To forget about the page before,
I thought: I must live…
in anticipation.
© MacMillan
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