Grateful

Bluebells rang around the grounds
Dancing in the West Wind
While we sat inside
Listening in black

To his grief-bent son
Both arms locked stiff
Tight-knuckled at the lectern
That shook

He read as best he could
Of his dad, his friend 
Who had done his best
Where demons hunt

That broken voice
Matched his heart
Caused him to pause
To catch his breath

His daughter thanked us
Who’d come this far
With him to this place
Now his work done 

Tear-burned rosy face
Clearly she spoke
She understood
He was ours too

Such loss, grief and love
Replete with gratitude
So plainly expressed
Confirmed our own

While Chopin was played
We humbly laid yellow rose petals
On his wooden coffin
Before the curtains closed

Bluebells rang around the grounds
Dancing in the West Wind
As we emerged
From black

~

n.b. NaPoWriMo 2024 Day 19 prompt: Haunted > Hunted. Beyond me today.