I see lesser people when a poor dies, 
and even though I don't know who that is, 
I still assume he was breathing yesterday, 
however cliche it sounds, he was there for someone 
he is not today.

Death on the hindsight is like a board exams
we all prepare for it unknowingly,

and when it finally happens we stare at it blankly and go beyond 
and the long wait after that is tasteless I suppose
a prolonged time perhaps  
I wonder what happens to the friends who attend the funeral,
do they erase the number, forget the address 
or spread the news in the family.

What happens to the memory of the dead 
does it become topsoil 
or the picture in the hall speaking to the lonely
anytime they get your name on the tip of their tongue they bite it off
or a woman cries discreetly when she touches the edges of the bed
when we die, we live long before we prepare to die.