Saturday, April 19, 2008


Fresh clean suit
All creases and sharp
Shoes shined to mirror black
Hair combed and parted
Pristine display…

Later, when family
And friends depart
Still sharply dressed
Creases crisp
Hair combed and parted
Wife sits beside
And talks of days gone by

And when the morning comes
Lid closes, final journey
Words spoken, tears shed...
Composure lost



aria said...

as they say, 'never say good bye'. who knows what's in store ..'after' ..
btw- I hear you.

Linda Jacobs said...

I went to my uncle's funeral two weeks ago and this is exactly how he looked! You wrote this really well!

keith hillman said...

Beautifully written. Not in the least funerial! I liked it.

Granny Smith said...

This poem seems as precise as the crisp creases of the suit. That final "Goodbye" is a heart-breaker.

paisley said...

excellent piece of writing.. visually right on.. and i so understood exactly the feeling of confusion the line between the pristine and the lost....

Greyscale Territory said...

Your writing composure when tackling this topic is remarkable.


AnnieElf said...

A visual marvel. I was right back at the recent funerals in my life. They all looked the same, only the guests were different.

tumblewords said...

Nice work about a poignant event.