That Sweet Smell of Death

The drapes were drawn in our front room
As Ma led me in, that afternoon,
The air so heavy…it took my breath
That unforgettable sweet smell of death.

Bedecked in flowers, Dad`s coffin stood
On a make-shift dais made of wood,
Lid raised, I saw his hair and head,
There was no doubt that he was dead.

And yet I thought, as I stood there
It wasn`t really at all fair
To take my Daddy up to Heaven
While I his son, was only seven.

Ma stood well back away from me,
With blinding tears, she could not see
Yet lifting me aloft, quite high,
She whispered “Geoffrey…..kiss Dad good-bye.”

I scanned his waxen pallid face
The shroud he wore was made of lace,
No smile appeared upon his lips,
Like Fridays eating fish and chips.

Suspended there, like in mid-air
I saw a grey streak in Dad`s hair,
His eyes were closed like in a sleep,
Then I too began to weep.

I turned to Ma, “Please put me down,”
Her lovely face turned to a frown,
“You didn`t kiss your Dad good-bye,”
I shook my head, and she knew why.

That scene imprinted on my brain,
Comes back to me..again and again,
When fragrant flowers lace the breeze,
Lillies, Carnations and Sweet Peas……