Mid Day Speaks Poem by James McLain

Your silence speaks much louder now.
Here where I can not but stand in wait.
One last unscented rose lies here in bloom.
While it is placed inside upon arranged around,
each open mouth mid day has come to soon.

No coins have I beside me, weeping pastor knows.
Your purse strings drawn so tight, I can not see.
Where I should be, is where you go today, I bow.
I hear each 'Angel' sing, it's there against your face.
Wrapped up in cotton blankets, I see them close.