Death of a Bluesman

I’m sorry for your pain. It’s mine as well.
Not that I loved the man the same way you did,
but I knew him even longer. He was a friend.

He played and sang at all my children’s parties
while they were growing up, and ours as well,
no matter how famous he got — and finally,
when my boys were men, at their father’s wake.

He told me then his secret: ‘Jack Dancer,’ he said.
Yet he stayed alive and kept on singing
and doing shows for another sixteen years.

He’d only just retired. He said he was feeling well,
but in recent photos he looked frail and haggard.
I don’t know any details. Did the invader return?
He said he felt good, and twelve days later he’s dead.


Day 25 - The person you know who is going through the worst of times