Hope.


The Amateur

I am sorrowful
At a loss
What did I lose?
My father
Before that
My sanity
Before that
My innocence
All these I mourn
Wearing black
My smile a veil
Just standing there
Waiting for the casket to be lowered
Anyone can see
That I'm a close family member
At my own funeral
Caring more for the loss of my social position
Than anything else

Unexpectedly
Laughter
Telling a joke badly
To the horrified priest
Something sexy
A little risqué
He is kind of cute
Both of us in black
His profession, death.

I wipe my tears.
And walk away.


© 2007 Anne Westlund




Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 610 times
Written on 2007-02-06 at 00:35

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