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MJL Mar 2
A stiff in the corner
A stiff in a pew
Watch the parade
Formality on cue

A choreographed dance
From station to station
First to the church
Then dirt destination

Like hospital corners
Clean little lines
Sanitized process
Dressed to the nines

Death can rub off
As every ghost knows
A sickness to catch
It seeps in your clothes

Orderly duty
Sterilizing the end
Except for our thoughts
Would never offend

The cliquing and pooling
People masking their eyes
The family alone
Will look to the cries

A lifetime of sharing
With nothing to say
Thoughts sprint to the bar
To silently pray

Bagpipes have started
It’s time to decide
Pay some respects
Or silently hide

Weak at the wall
Will flies to the door
Avoids every handshake
Just looks at the floor          

Dotting the “i”
Think neat tidy passing
A check box is ticked
Life’s not very lasting

A stiff well-dressed drink
A stiff well-dressed friend
Worth more than a nod
On cowards choice wend

© 2019 MJL
I should have said something, said the Irishman.
Bethany Nov 2013
When I hear those Bagpipes roar,
My heart begins to soar.

Frozen in my tracks,
My mind wanders back.

To a piper I once knew
Whose heart was pure and true.

He played those pipes like angels sing,
I often wondered, "Where are his wings?"

Those bagpipes casted a spell on me,
And that Irish lad's face is all I could see.

I used to weep when those pipes would sound,
Because for the moment my lost heart felt found.

See, that piper is the strongest man I ever met,
But because my heart was immature, I was'nt ready for him yet.

As years pass by, this broken heart has begun to heal.  
Yet as soon as I hear those faithful pipes, my heart starts to feel.

Time has a way of putting our mistakes far in the past,
But I have to accept that Celtic sound will forever last.

So when you see that kilt and bearskin come marching in the room,
Do as I do 'listen' and soon your heart will bloom.

For those bagpipes serve a bigger role then i ever knew, That thunderous sound can only come from a select few.

And behind one of those pipes, stands a beautiful man, but he never notices I'm his biggest fan.
Bagpipes wail in sorrow,
This man will not wake tomorrow.

— The End —