The Day That I Quit

It wasn’t the dogs that made me quit

Despite the fact I kept stepping in ...it

It’s a nice place to walk. I get it. I do!

The grass is alluring and perfect for poo.

The visitors cried. And cried. And cried.

I’d shed a tear without knowing who died.

Crying for family I'd never had,

I couldn't keep weeding. I was feeling too sad!

But life went on and so did my work

Couldn't stand in the shadows and cry like a jerk

The truth is, they’re strangers. I should step away

Was this the highlight or low point of my day?

I kept the grounds nice by mowing and trimming

I worked and sweat while their tears were brimming

I know they felt lost, but so did I

I didn't want to work here until I die

Folks walk and jog by with no respect for the dead

And no respect at all for my work. Instead,

They tread right over Mrs. Marylou Murray

And continue on, unbothered, unworried

One day they’ll return, (and I’ll be curt-- As a mourner, or perhaps lowered into the dirt).

I don’t want to be here on that fateful day,

Still pulling up weeds, my hair shiny grey.

In desperation, I looked for a sign-- just for me

And there it was, hanging off of a tree

A swing. ...A swing? Who dared hang that there?

The disrespect! The lack of care!

In my line of business, I’d seen it all

But this took the cake, was the last straw.

"I quit! Do you hear me? I’m leaving. Goodbye!

Ne'er to return 'til the day that I die!

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Thanks for reading! I guess I should credit myself for my own photo. I really did see this at my own workplace. (And no, I'm not actually the groundskeeper of a graveyard).