-Frank the Cobbler-

Distance sank like stone

In funeral hues and marched 

Across your face like a terrible army.

Uncle,

Your shoemakers' heart
Is hardened in icy stasis
At the influence of cruel

Chemistry.

                                                    

I'm a stranger 
To this festival of permanence.

Your pale
Wife grieves.
Your young
Daughters weep.

Your son has no interest in the business.

The bright

Clutch of flowers cling and pour

Above the hand-scribed note:

With Love, 

William, Anne and Family.

                                 Fall River