A Better Place

He never moved into the house
The light, bright window out of which he gazed
On Sunday last
Never walked his dogs across
The open fields that lay endlessly out before it
No,
His time was almost past

And now is gone.

He never cooked upon the range
Which confounded yet pleased and impressed him so
He never moved his sofa in
Though, with gently moving arms had illustrated
The very place where it would go

Where is it now?

He never turned his new set of keys in solid locks as he
Should have, just today
And the pale blue eyes which, lost in reverie had looked
Instead, part on Valhala and part in pleading stare with
Death
Were gazed

Where is he now?

He said it was a new start for him, a new time
He said that he would stay this quiet place, for more than just a while
He had nodded with vague certainty
He had said so with a smile

And you ask, why should I care?
Why the blood money I can't keep?
Why I should stoop with such sorrow?
Why should I stumble, why should I weep?

How, then, can I make you understand
That he was a good and gentleman
That the good die young
And that
I knew it
When, with polite grace
He shook me by the hand.