An old poem

T’was early in the morning
Toward the middle of the night
When two dead boys got up to fight
Back to back they faced one another
Drew their swords and shot each other
A deaf policeman, hearing the noise
Came and killed those two dead boys
If you don’t believe my story’s true
Just ask the blindman, he saw it too

We used to beg Mom to tell us this poem when we were little. I remember we laughed each time as if it were the first. Once when I was very small, maybe four or five, I realized that if all people die then Mom would die too. I was riding by myself in a car with her and just started sobbing horribly. This really shook her up and she asked what was wrong. She nearly stopped the car before she was able to drag it out of me. When I told her she smiled and assured me that I had no reason at all to even think about that now. I decided to let those words suffice because I really couldn’t bear the pain that came with the thought of her death.

My younger brother and I were always the two dead boys when she told the poem. She would poke us and smile as she said that part and I guess we giggled hardest at that. This year one of those boys went to be with Mom and the other one is missing them both. They can’t come to me but I can go to them. I can hear Mom say there’s no reason at all to even think about that now, but I do.