Steps

Down the center isle she'd only walked
I carried her
With seven other men

Up with her dad
At birth, to wed,
And back with Grandad
And now with us.

Down the steps she never took,
We carried her again:
Just like her dad when life began.

With candles, vows, and separation-
Dedicated, married, and now deceased-
She finished what they started.
The eight of us attest to that.

Inside a car she never drove,
We placed her as gently as we could:
The rollers made it smooth.
I said goodbye before I let her go.

Followed by a line of cars and hearts
That stretched back eighty years or more
She would have fussed,
Although she thought it right to do.

Three men await her at the gate,
And two have walked that path before.