Grave

“He was always headed to an early grave,”
They whispered gravely, dressed in black
As they approached his grave site.

Beside a resting casket and a hole, there’s a gravestone
With engraved letters reading,
“From the cradle to the grave, forever loved, Our Dave.”
His mother had chosen it, gravely assured
That having had one foot in the grave while living
Would not define his grave in death.

“Upon my son’s grave, I never would have thought…”
She choked, releasing the gravest cry,
But he was turning in his grave beside.
“He dug his own grave with the way he behaved.”
But on a day so grave, there were no words they could say
And when the graveyard held just her.
Knowing she’d take her secret to the grave, she smirked.