A home for the recently departed

Where spirits mingle

And souls are wrangled

 

Walls of red-flocked paper

And black leather furniture

A coffer suggesting mourning

Framed comic book mortician humor

Hangs conspicuously about

Designed to stave off tears

But tear showers still down pour

So Kleenex lives close by

Just in case

 

The mortician’s skin ashen grey

With almost pure white hair

Tussled with intent

Conducting an orchestra of grief

His baton raised in perfect timing

Costumed impeccably, all in black

Preening a three piece designer suit

Mother loved a man in uniform

 

Monetizing loss for sale

 

A remembrance card

With a thirty plus year old picture

Her beauty in full bloom

The backside

A four-line poem

From her daughter’s cache

Mother’s favorite

A plain black guest book

Simple yet classy

A pictorial review of her life

Framed for easy display

 

The flowers her favorites

White orchids and mums

Pink roses sprinkled throughout

Displayed in abundance

The perfect backdrop

For her final cocoon

She loved center stage

 

The luncheon post service

From her favorite take out

Croissant sandwiches cut in half

And multiple side salads

With the requisite lemon bars

Soothed by a string quartet

 

The coffin

Her final home

Polished oak with clean lines

Bright red silk encrusted

Her favorite color

 

A theatrical addition

 

That the grief stricken might write

Messages of love

On the coffin

A 1960’s love van reinvented

Much to the mortician’s distain

He reluctantly agrees to the ritual

Bright colored ink pens

Become part of the celebration

As friends line up out the door

Waiting for the chance to say farewell

With a permanent magic marker

 

Her private world

 

Always dressing for the day

Donning make-up

Freshly styled hair

Wearing the latest fashion

Declaring when one feels lousy

One must look their best

To transcend the dark

 

Her hair softly curled

Sprinkled with grey

No need for heavy make-up

Not a wrinkle on her face

Leaving little to be done

 

The mortician’s fashion decree

 

Earrings must not dangle

But lay close to her ears

Did she have a red red lipstick?

 

Yes a favorite

She applied

Sans mirror

A practice to show her independence

 

Clothes are well chosen

An Asian style black silk

Two piece pantsuit

With appliquéd oriental red flowers

Compliment the bright red silk interior

Beauty always her cause

 

Jewelry in bounty

Covers her chest

With fingers wearing multiple rings

A turquoise laden watch

Adorns her wrist

 

The drum rolling coup de gras

Her red patent leather

Four-inch heeled shoes

Not worn for many years

Making their reappearance

The perfect fantasy adornment

 

The final act

 

Writing

The obituary

Filled with fine accomplishments

The eulogy

Filled with fond memories

 

As tears flow once more

Knowing there are no more days

To shop the latest trends

To enjoy a leisurely drive

To share a late late lunch

In a favorite restaurant

Where secret yearnings are confessed

And war-torn fears float on by….