Song Unsung

It was a fitting day for it,
sun shining bright and hard
in a flinty sky.
The bitter wind chilled hands
so they could be warmed by
‘why do we only meet at funeral’ handshakes.

Gentle words spoken, memories
given wings to bestow
butterfly kisses on tear
dampened cheeks. Silence
weighted, shared, bound us
in the reality of her passing.