She followed at her own pace,
not really caring
and wondered at the crowd
that was ahead.
The coffin looked shiny,
mahogany and brass
and she laughed
a little.
Such a small one,
yet so smart.
You wouldn't think
a body would fit!
She drifted then,
transfixed
by the shoe shops
and the sales.
The blue ones were fab',
a bit pricey though
and the red ones were hot,
very high heeled.
By the time she'd finished
the procession
had gone on.
She'd missed it.
Well they'd always said,
'you'll be late for your funeral some day'
they were right,
she was.
Her soul just floated heavenwards
and as she watched
the moon arose,
grinning.
Who wants to be buried anyhow, she thought,
she never did like worms
and she certainly didn't care
for the head stone.
Ruth Walters
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/too-late-10/