The Last Time I

Tears flow freely on an open grave
Her heart breaking as she throws in the silver rose
The pain was clearly etched on her face
As she drops to her knees, sobbing.
Unlike the others, she has no family
No friends to comfort her
Just me and that minister watching,
And even his gaze is far away,
I remember the last time I saw that look.

Slowly the minister slinks away
Mumbling about another service.
And even though her heart bleeds more
She slowly succumbs to the siren call of sleep.
In sleep she smiles, her joy unfettered
By the bonds of her earthly pain.
But it's just a brief respite, and earthly sounds intrude.
She awakes, and stands, resolve clear on her face
I remember the last time I saw that look.

The rose is gone now
But the minister is back
Saying that same bland blessing
He's saying it over another open grave
Only this time, there is no mourner
Just a mound of freshly turned earth.
And yes, I remember the last time I saw her.

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