Funeral of old Lady <br />The old lady died, yes she is thoroughly dead <br />at five, before first light was about to shine <br />on Lisbon’s sky. Skin covering tired bones, her <br />body free to rot and her soul has flown away. <br /> <br />Tomorrow they will come from afar women <br />dressed in black and wearing hats. Men too <br />In somber suits and black ties, talk quietly; <br /> safely away from emotional women. <br /> <br />When last hymn has been sung, they will <br />walk away and leave the old lady amongst <br />the dead, but later meet at a restaurant. <br />Bereavement makes mourners so hungry <br /> <br />So we lift our glasses and remember her <br />well, this is not a day to say she was a bit <br />of a pain, a selfish woman obsessed with <br />herself. Burial is not a time for veracity.<br /><br />oskar hansen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-of-an-old-lady/
