Poem for Billy
With a stone above him to try and stop
Any grave-robber fox who chances by
From snuffling and rooting to dig him up,
I hope his sleep is deep, and warm and dry.
The Converse box just about big enough
To contain his body, curled soft and tight.
After an ending which was quick and rough,
He was unmarked, heart burst perhaps with fright.
And much heavier in his death than life,
When I held him loose bundled in my arm,
And somehow now more present in my grief,
Remembering his life, both long and calm.
The stone sinks a little each passing day,
As he settles deeper, and ebbs away.
© James Nash 2012