It was raining, I remember that much
Tears from Heaven,a final touch
Leaves were swept as willows wept
An afternoon of bitter grey
Wet grass and puddles to pass
With a ruddy muddy spray
The weather failed to forecast
At best, at rest, at last
The lay preacher waiting to pray
Flowered wreaths, a soggy sight
Drooping in the fading light
Impatient children started to fight
Against straining adult control
An inner circle above a six foot hole
He was never on time, ever
Not once in his life
He made it a habit with his wit
Just joking with us all
To indicate he'd even be late
For his own funeral
It was raining, I remember that much.
Lyndon Queripel
