I have no love of a funeral,
women in their black watercolor faces,
pink and white roses, worthy of monet,
so much weeping,
avoidance of the loved ones,
so as not to have their face etched in our mind,
all are in perpetual slow motion,
endless parade of mourners,
so much grieving,
let us all rejoice for the living and not those passed,
so much easier in the land of the living.