A Head in the Honey Pot Forever

Unbelievable that it’s all come down to this, the tossing
in of the handful of soil and the long stemmed rose
to cover a costly, glossy coffin’s lid. It’s too much to pay
for merely temporary storage, too much for me to bear.
You were so happy once, smiling all the time, comforting
all your friends, and really only struggling with one vice. 

You had a heart as big as a good chunk of the outdoors,
a furry little guy who found to his surprise that it was time
to die. You had a good foundation, a one true love, and
many forged friendships over a long literary life. I’d grab
your paw, keep you from dragging in the dirt. You were
better, so much better than I. I shed tears in the here,
drop the earth and flower, and deny you will leave me
behind forever.  Will I read your fabled tales again, now
that they might burn my eyes and tongue to speak aloud?
And if they do, would it be cool to quench pain with some
old intoxication, my old friend? The craft of your stories
might hold my attention even longer now, thinking of you.

 The honey up there must taste sweeter than down here.
There’ll be no bees in the trees, hive-bound to sting you
in your indulgent harvest of the sweet forever. Here’s
to until I see you once again, my furry little friend, in the
great beyond where we’ll take turns sticking our heads
into pots of the sweetest honey that flows never-ending.

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