The Joke at the Funeral

In the hushed room where grief hovered thick,

a crack broke the tension, a nervous little quip,

Uncle Joe’s ghost floated in, swift as a flick,

“Remember his bad jokes? They’ll still make you trip.”

A circle of mourners caught off-guard,

a ripple of laughter, unexpected, yet sweet,

a reminder that joy could rise, even in shards,

when memory dances, and sorrow retreats.