On meeting a friend for the first time, at her funeral

I called myself a friend
And went to her funeral, in this guise
To realise
In many ways
I did not really know her.

You can not quite depend
On family tutorial, a suprise
To realise
In many ways
They did not really know her.

I sat there at this end
And heard a memorial, with wet eyes
To realise
In many ways
We never really know her.

But each of us contend
Campari and quiz and all, none denies
We realise
In many ways
To love her was to know her.

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2 comments

  1. fine piece of writing

    Like

    1. You are very kind, thank you.

      I enjoyed your take on Rosaline today, the forgotten woman of that tragic romance 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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