Cortege
Crisp
the mourning,morning air
the cortege passing
takes her there.
black on black
and black again,
the morning funeral
of a friend.
Light so light
she has become,
lighter than the mourning son
brave as angels on the wing,
how she valued everything.
Saw the good in me and you,
even though it wasn't true,
shared the bread of peace and love
wings of beauty like the dove,
flying low there on the wind,
the morning funeral of a friend.
Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006
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