Harry The Garbage Man

Harry collected the garbage on our street
Always cheerful and kind, he stood out
Summer, spring, fall and winter
Harry always showed up with a smile
Everybody said he had a certain something
It was kind of like an unexplainable glow
That emanated out of his face and his smile
He never went to church but believed in God
And talking to him was like talking to a monk
He had what could be called an inner piety
When he died of a massive heart attack
Hundreds attended his solemn funeral
And before the casket was lowered
Into the freshly dug large burial hole
Luminous white light poured out of it
And sort of like the holy spirit tongues
In the Biblical holy Day of Pentecost
The light entered into every one there
Filling them with inexpressible peace and joy
A supernatural holy goodbye from Harry

Bob Boyd

Author: BobBoyd

Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-) View all posts by BobBoyd