The Service Was Perfectly Lovely

The service was perfectly lovely, they said The flowers like once-frozen tears of white Words from a poem were read over the dead; The conclusion greeted with many a sigh. I know you're pure class; but it was an event Well timed for the season; to catch the last rays: Such straight lines of chairs, were placed under the tent At the first taste of Autumn's downplayed cooler days. I spoke for some minutes; and mentioned my sorrow At saying goodbye, to such long-living dreams. The simple black dress; so perfect, was borrowed; My black see-through stockings, no visible seams. When I walked from the graveyard, back to the car I left there a very large chunk of my soul So we buried our love; once hitched to the stars And you know I'll find never, another such role. (written to My Melancholy Baby- Michael Parks)