Dennis' Aunt died yesterday (at 80-years old), and this is the poem he wrote for her; she was always a helpful woman to him, with many fond memories. Rosa

The Poem:

BY INVITATION ONLY

(Dedicated to my Aunt Rose)

So she has gone to that mystic country, which we all will visit some day, a different kind of country, drowned in mist and lore, legends and Biblical verse—called heaven.

I learned about her death today, my Aunt Rose, who used to buy for me those fat little steaks; give me some loose change for gas, in times when I wasn't doing so well, in times when I took her shopping; and those picnics when I was just a kid.

Heaven, a true land where all is beautiful, restful—where life is not heavy; and sickness, does not exist. How sweet it is, where disorder and anxiety is unforeseen—, ev

en banned. By invitation only is how you get there!

She was eighty-years old, died last night; I heard about it this morning. It is here where life ends, here on earth; but there, beyond its gravity, earth gravity, we must go to live—for infinity. Perhaps there, the clocks have no hands, and we will all have more time, meet again, and sit in the sun, like we did so long ago, at those picnics, when we were, oh—so young.

# 1201 (02/12/06)) Prose Poem))

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