Eight Boneless Lemons

Bless us, Oh, Lord.
To bake for supper.

She was always the one.
For these, thy gifts.

To say Grace.
We're sorry for our loss.

We'll be eight  tonight.
For her, a merciful release.

Death's a tragedy
only for the living.

Margaret Fieland

If you have any comments on these poems, Margaret Fieland would be pleased to hear from you.