Funeral

It is cold today. Fitting, some might say. A miserable, cold, grey day.

I've been asked to do a reading. I chose it. Clare Harner. You're gone but I don't really believe you're not here. I just hope...

A point above my navel clenches at the thought, a tight weightiness that coils and twists and threatens to squeeze out the emotion that I am desperately trying to keep down.

I take another draw on my cigarette, watch as smoke mixes with breath and lifts into the air.

The bells knell and it is time.

I hope I do you proud.

***

100 words exactly

I have a funeral today. It is stormy and the lightning flashes as I write this and now, the rain is starting to drum. A dark day indeed.

The poem:

Dedicated to my Aunty Angie.

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