I Love Poetry

This poem was inspired by a funeral that I actually attended.

THE LADY IN THE FLOWERED DRESS


She stood there in her flowered dress,
And mourned with tissues dabbing.
Her tousled hair and crooked smile,
With piercing eyes so stabbing.

Leant right against the wooden pew,
Her aching joints complaining.
The mood was sombre in the church,
And on its roof, was raining.

As the curtain closed around the box,
She sobbed in to her tissue.
No-one questioned who she was,
It never was an issue.

They left the church at half past two,
The pews, its clock, the steeple.
In the aftermath back at the house,
Again, she joined the people.

With shaking hands, she placed her cup,
Upon a nestle table.
As they all conversed and shared their grief,
She balanced, quite unstable.

Then picking up the nearest plate,
The cake, she piled on, smiling.
And sarnies, towered at least eight high,
The sight was quite beguiling.

Word went around and all did look,
At this floral lady scoffing.
Cos, she never even knew the man,
WHO’D LAID THERE IN THAT COFFIN!