Grace in her failings

Should I say that there was grace 
in her failings. 
Should I casually lie 
about tears cried and pride broken.

“She wasn’t all bad, not the worst”, 
they nod and smile and again nod, 
odd how none of them knew her. 
Sunny day friends who bolted 
at the sight of clouds.

She was graceless! a mean spirit. 
And now she is dead, A corpse 
in a coffin 
lying on a bed as sunny day friends 
file past and shake my hand.
“She wasnt the worst” they mutter. 
Poor friends I think. 
That harly knew her.

– Dave Kavanagh

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