Swansong

Faces so dolled up on such a gloomy day,

Pristine in black dresses and cloaks,

Down the path under drooping autumn leaves

They walk between forgotten souls.

Arm-in-arm marching on to the mellow tune

Soldiers armed for the fray,

The fragrance of the dead's wreath masks

The memory of lifeless clay.

Mahogany casket from hardwood floor,

Perfect posture from limbs out of shape;

The pooling blood was wiped raw, now

A white shroud takes its place.

The music stops and the cage's cage is placed

At its final milestone,

Verses never read in life soothe the ears

Of those left back home.

Flower upon flower on the new coffin placed

That'll soon wither in the dark,

Tears of making and unmaking, on whose eternity

Do they leave a mark?

And now the earth takes back another she had

Sent to be loved and to hate,

Oh, how much more beautiful are funerals

Than the glaringly human deaths.