My mam and dad <br />made fun of death <br />like you do <br />when you don’t believe <br />it will happen to you. <br />They talked lightly of <br />“falling off the twig” <br />and “leaving the village”. <br />Now they are both dead: <br />they have fallen off the twig, <br />they have left the village. <br /> <br />What about you? <br />Do you feel the wind, <br />sometimes, shaking the tree, <br />blowing through its branches? <br />And have you yet glimpsed, <br />faintly, through the fog, <br />the last houses <br />at the edge of the village?<br /><br />Pete Crowther<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/night-thoughts-3/
