Maureen

It was her funeral mass
Sitting in the church
I could not believe it was true
I could picture her lying on her bed
I could hear the things she said
I could smell the lunch she would often cook
I could see on the cabinet her library book
I could see the coffee table
In the centre of the room
The two rocking chairs
I could remember the chats about films
And TV programmes we would share
I could only think
Her favourite colour was pink
I laid on her coffin a flower
In memory of many a happy hour
I could not know I would see her no more
When I said goodbye last week.
As I walk along the street
I could see the pink flower at my feet
To pick it up I bent
I knew from whom it was sent
It was her way of saying final farewell.

i m Maureen Moore

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