Yesterday night he passed on
The precise time even his sleepy wife did not know
A sudden heart attack they later found
On the obese one just fifty two years old
SR is “late”, to office today
However, he is now beyond the habitual fear
The boss won’t rant or scream at him as always
Nor other sycophants smile or sneer
Now appropriately dressed and quite at ease
Clad in spotless white pure and sublime
His ever nervous brain now in peace
No more fuddled by accounts and sharp dead lines
SR is smiling with eyes almost closed
Seeming to enjoy the quiet repose
Even as colleagues file past wiping their dry eyes
And place flowers proper on the casket of ice
SR leaves behind
A wailing wife
Two bawling kids
And three pending files
“SR was a hard working and honest soul
This office has suffered an irreparable loss
Our condolences are with his kith and kin
Tomorrow at 10 am there will be two minutes of silence! ”
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very wry observation on death and the contrasts of reality and fiction loved it 10/10 BB : O)