The Funeral

A thin black veil of tulle hung,
tapered across her face,
a wispy cloud of yesteryear,
a memento of her faith.

She stood behind the second pew
with family all around,
as the Reverend gave his eulogy,
with sugared edges, ground.

She stood in stillness while he spoke,
no tears of saddened loss,
for in that moment she’d been freed
in the midst of all that gloss.

And like a true canary’s song,
she blundered out the door,
when at last that man was dead and gone,
a jailer then no more.

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