The white silk feels cool
against my cheek,
Loved ones file by
comfort they seek.

The music is soft,
and flowers divine.
Stained glass casts colors
on this face of mine.

Where were these loved ones
when I was alone?
No time for tea,
couldn't pick up the phone.

I hear them weep,
cursing the fates.
Thanks for the flowers,
a little too late.