The Funeral of a Friend

I have come from the funeral
of a friend.
A funeral bathed in light
and tears
and beautiful winged words
that pierced the heart with knowing.
And upon the altar of light,
in front, on a small square table
sat a box of ashes
draped in whitest white–
a small reminder of the man,
and of us all.
And so we sang,
and listened,
and wiped our tears–
and brushed the lips
of his farewell
and ours.





About boomergirl47

Retired from the University of South Florida. Love reading, writing, hiking, nature, music, birding, puttering around the house and yard.
This entry was posted in death, emotions, human interest, love, poetry, psychology, relationships, spirituality, Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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