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The Wake

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The Wake

I woke up from this sleep and
hearing voices with laughter
headed downstairs.
Opening the door to a crowded room
No one turned.

I walked among these people
recognising many faces.
Peter, Sally, ‘hey, Thomas how are you’
But no one took any notice of me.

I moved around the room as in a dream
nudging past people who couldn’t feel me
I came across two old chums I’d dealt with for years
in business. They were chatting...
The silly old sod, never knew I diddle him out of fifty grand
on that shopping centre project.
Charles dear boy, that’s nothing remember that pipeline under the Thames,
I made millions from that while poor old Robert lost a fortune.

I was stood next to these so called friends of mine
and listening to every word what was being said
I let fly with a fist to Charles Miller.

There I was on the darn floor, I’d gone straight through him
what the hell was going on here?

I tried picking up a glass of wine but my hand just went through the glass
now this is frightening, am I in sane or just bloody dead!
Julie dear wife, she didn’t hear me, was talking to Jake Stephens he’d always fancied her.
I moved to the far side of the room there surrounded by flowers and a casket -
Dare I look inside this thing, who, what will be in there?
I approached slowly more or less walking through the people mingling around now -
Two more steps I’m there, I look inside the casket a face is staring back at me…
My face, I realise now that this is a wake, yes this is actually My wake for my death.

Written by B R Walker
Copywriter UK 2017

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