Silver and Gray
©2002 Frank Gayer Martin

Cutting the cane was his last chore
He swung hard and opened death’s door
Down he fell in the front yard
By the ’59 Buick that still won’t start

He looked up at clouds
All silver and gray
The silver light, it called
And the gray promised rain

He saw John run, but John’s too late
No sirens wail down in the canebrake
No siren’s moan would shoo birds away
It’s better, he thought, it’s better this way

Chorus

There’s life hereafter, it’s on the other side
The sad part is leaving, saying goodbye

He’d been a preacher, a sinner and a working man
Time for fishing when he finished, that was the plan
The last words John heard him ever say
Were “take the minnows and go fishing and I’ll be okay”