Winter break, a welcome pause,
From lectures, tests, dorm room brawls.
My cousin John was a brand new dad,
His home hectic, no space to be had.
“Sorry, Cuz, we’re just going berserk,
But I’ve got a spot I think will work:
My funeral home, it’s just over there,
A peaceful place that’s beyond compare.”
So here I lie in a somber hall,
Where whispers fade and the shadows fall.
No lively chatter, no TV hum,
Just stillness, profound and a bit glum.
The viewing room, a solemn space,
Where solace dwells with gentle grace.
I spread my sleeping bag upon the floor,
And drift away toward a distant shore.
The scent of lilies, faint and sweet,
A soothing presence, can’t be beat.
No ghosts or specters haunt my sleep,
Just restful repose, oh so deep.
And as the dawn begins to gleam,
I wake refreshed, from tranquil dream.
The quietude, a gift bestowed,
A serene night, a lighter load.
© 1974, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.
