One helluva Eulogy

I stand at the doorway and wave
It is not the type that
Heralds new beginnings
It is the one made of ashes and smoke
Solemn faces and heavy hearts.
If ever you are gone
Then you were too good to be here
I imagine the books
that shall accompany you
Poems like this we shall recite
And maybe it shall please you
To wake up and speak
To criticise our voices
Give us every reason
Why this verse is wrong.

Vera