This is dedicated to a very dear friend.
Marriage Funeral for a Friend
Like a man recently returned to the world
he walked back in (again)
and butter-wouldn’t-melt (again)
for he was quite reformed (again).
He of the drunken rages,
the kicking-down of doors
the jumping on ceilings
and the breaking of floors.
Theirs was a mismatch made in hell,
that created for him a saint
but for her a brute.
(She of the far-too-forgiving).
His ways are wild;
she goes in gentleness
and believes the meek are blessed
though she dreams of her escape
as she tiptoes over eggshells,
creeping by him with only her halo shining,
as she trails fine angel dust in her sweet wake.
She sweeps it under carpets
along with all her heartaches,
and together they fall
and fall (again).
Down to a grave they fall
from her pure but over-burdened shoulders.