The casket was white.

The ceremony was small, simple.

She noticed birds,

As she left the church.

Two, maybe three.

Lorikeets: bright red,

Violent blue.

Their colours seemed incongruous

On a day like today.

 

The bride wore white.

The ceremony was small, simple.

She noticed a butterfly,

On the way to the reception.

It fluttered past,

A Blue Tiger:

Flecks of lurid colour

Clothed in black.

It seemed perfect,

On a day like today.

 

The casket was oak.

Her grown children,

Stood side-by-side up front –

Tears slipped from cheek to cheek.

A man in the final pew,

Touched his fingers to his lips,

When they carried her out.

 

The bride wore fuchsia.

She matched it with a feathered, purple hat.

Her grown children,

Stood side-by-side –

Laughter flew between them.

A man in the back row,

Averted his eyes,

When the groom stole his kiss.

 

The casket was much too small,

Much too small for any heart to bear.

People spilled from church doors,

Parked cars snaked around the cemetery drive.

When four men lifted the small wooden box,

A woman fell forward onto her knees

And sobbed.

Raindrops fell,

And that seemed right, for a day like today.

 

The bride bit her lip,

Clutched her father’s arm,

As she stepped out into the garden aisle.

Took one deep breath,

Closed her eyes, felt sunshine on her skin.

The warmth seemed right,

On a day like today.