The Telegram Was Brief



The telegram was brief

as all telegrams should be.

Unless you have endless money.

The one that arrived

just said: She died.

My cousin assumed

that I knew the old shrew

the one called Aunt Jill

or to the kids, Mrs. Pill.

More than two words I rarely heard spoke.

I always believed her voice box was broke.

Children should be seen and not heard.

So to us she barely uttered a word.


When the telegram arrived

I wasn't surprised.

Aunt Jill was old

and had amassed silver and gold

as she was convinced the economy would crash.

But I guess all the stress

caused her mad dash

to the grave at age fifty four.

And Oh The Horror!

when we heard from the lawyer

that Aunt Jill had buried her treasure.


So shovels in hand, our greed without measure

We surrounded her yard and glared at each other.

"I am the one to whom THREE words were said!"

shouted our least favorite cousin, Cousin Ted.

"Oh ya?!" screamed Bob, pickax in the air.

And that's when I decided to slip through a tear

in the worn fence while the fighting commenced.

And return to my life

which until tonight

Aunt Jill hadn't affected at all.


I still do not have endless money.

But to me, that seems safe.

Lest in the end, my telegram be

just as brief.

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