Image: Kirsty Mitchell
At Josie’s funeral there wasn’t a lot said
Among the tight knit circle of friends
There were whispers, rumours, gossip
Every possible speculation
For no one was saying anything out loud.
She’d been found reposed in a magenta field
Her gown, the one her mother sewed.
Evenings formalities dispensed with
Parties to attend, drinks and unwinding.
She was the princess at the ball
The head turner, elegant, poised
The evenings dream girl.
She’d taken the bus with many others
A safe way to get to and from
A gathering out of town
Protected and guarded
She’d behaved, as did they all.
But sometime in the early hours she disappeared
It was obvious she had gone
At first they thought her mum had picked her up
But later that proved false.
Someone took her, laid her out,
Stole her life and she from us.
It had to be, everyone thought, one of us!
So her funeral was a subdued affair
So unfair she deserved much more
We should have celebrated her life
But instead we stood silent
Sideways glances, incriminating looks.
Only her mum sobbed, the cry of a parent
And so she should, her grief was now
Ours would arrive, a day, a week from now.