Sister Florence Myrtle Barron             


(Second place poetry, Blue Ridge Writers Chapter contest, VWC, 2017) and will be published in Skyline Anthology 2018



I draw her memory to me

Envision her essence        close my eyes

Garden roses and lavender emit a faint

Fragrance at the far end of the parlor

Where her casket is tucked into a columned niche

A prudent design by the builder who knows

Just how things are done by country folk

A space where a family can

View their loved one

Send them to their heavenly home

She’s in a better place

I stare at her from a distance

Move closer and closer to the casket

Does someone lift me up        or do I climb to peek

Touch her alabaster skin       hard and smooth

A death mask of pale, polished stone

Doesn’t she look good

She’s in her Sunday best

Her purple flowered dress

Baptist women don’t usually wear bright colors

Jesus-on-the-Cross chain around her neck

A hint of rouge on her cheeks and lips

Baptist women don’t usually wear makeup

Silver flecked hair finger-waved to perfection

Plum-colored rhinestone clip-on earrings . . .

Her only fineries in fifty-two years on the farm

She’s suffering no more

The smell of roses overtake wafting aromas of

Country hams       cakes         pies         platters of fried chicken

Family and neighbors

Pray         eat          sing        

Amen, sister Florence