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The Web Poetry Corner - James Bredin - Fred's Dead

Fred's Dead

by

James Bredin

We didnít communicate that much, me and Fred,
He was the big boss with a title; nuf said,
We wonít communicate any more, Ďcause heís dead,
Went to the funeral home and not much said.

I knew him for at least twenty seven years,
When we were equal and enjoyed a few beers,
Till he got promoted behind the office door,
The inner sanctum of power; need I say more?

He loved his rank and title way too much,
Like he was better than you or me and out of touch,
Made life miserable for those he didnít like,
Theyíre relieved now heís dead and gone for the hike.

Thirty-year old picture in obituary section,
When we were all young then; it takes some reflection,
Back to the time when we were all kind of equal,
I donít have the time to tell you the sequel.


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