The Floral Tie

Saw the tie in the window's gleam,

a faded bloom, a forgotten dream.

That cheap print, a punch to the gut,

words I meant to say, but the coffin was shut.

That dark wood, a solid fact,

no way to take a sentence back.

Just the shuffle of shoes, the low drone,

and me, standing there, utterly alone.

He always wore it, that ugly thing.

Now it's a silent, bitter sting.

The dirt fell, a heavy, dull sound,

burying words deep in the cold, wet ground.