Passing Through

Some people die in dirty forgotten bedsits With a ring-wormed cat, eyeing them up like a chop Others, take their leave on the motorway Cause pile ups, tail backs Dragging others with them Some people die in the womb Runners, poised on the blocks Missing the starting shot You left as a cherished guest The glen spread out, a feast on a good table The taste of your favourite poem Fresh in your mouth Passing through, Now you've become the sky The smoke from last year's leaves That hint of sweetness in the cherry tree