Last Words
by Wesley Sims

Jim and Sally rest
in eternal silence now,
their weathered bones
comforted in consoling sod.
No epitaph on their stones.

Never talked much.
No children to evoke
a storm of dialogue.

Depression era folks,
practiced in frugality,
served words like a precious
commodity. Perhaps they took
to heart my great-grandfather's
admonition, "Some things
are better felt than said."

Jim's last love words:
I tried to do right by you,
always ate the end piece
of bread so you wouldn't
have to.

She offered the final
benevolent psalm
over his corpse,
like a true stoic,
I loved the end piece
but saved it for you.




 

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