soft grumbles

A man dies of a heart attack
on Valentine’s Day?
Such an unfathomable conundrum.
While lovers hugged and kissed,
I braced myself and grieved.

As a young maiden opened her card
that came with the flowers,
I opened his casket
to put on his pin
look at him
for the last time.
Never had flowers smelled so strangely.

With sparkling eyes and a girly giggle,
she managed a smile.
I cried, shivered
and took a pill.
Never had flowers meant so strangely.

She also had her moment to spoil
a happy occasion twenty-three years after.
I had to do it all over again
two days before Christmas
when she drew her last breath.
While other families were gathered
to feast on their blessings
we received guests
mourning for our loss.

And yes, never had flowers
smelled strangely

Labels: death, poetry