I saw her enter silently
And slip into the backmost pew;
She glanced around her furtively,
Bowed down her head most solemnly
And quietly sobbed, as mourners do.
In glowing terms the pastor spoke
Of one he’d come to know as Mack,
An easygoing type of bloke,
Well loved by all the local folk—
A soft sob issued from the back.
He’d never spoken of his past
Or mentioned any kith or kin,
He’d change the subject extra fast
If anyone would dare to ask—
Looked like the secret died with him.
I saw her rise and quickly leave
As silently as she had come—
I knew that lady came to grieve
And to this day I do believe
Mack was to her some special one.
We all shed tears for Mack that day,
Said all our final, sad adieu,
But as I left and walked away
I felt contented in a way—
Though his past was hid—someone knew!
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