She bent down
and kissed the hearth sweetly,
died politley.

Some stood and stared.
Others huddled and shared vague memories.
Counterfeit tears.

A memorandum.
Alone in a crowd of familiar faces.
Cheap comfort.

Disturbed are the collective.
They glance my way,
A smile touches my face.

The forboding ones stare.
Ask unanswerable questions.
Nod and agree.

Leaving dank rooms behind.
Good work Jonny,
another reformed soul.

-Michael Hampton