In the quiet halls where whispers flow, I stood as a guide where shadows grow, A Funeral Director, in solemn grace, Helping families in their grief-stricken place.
Through endless tears and nights so long, I offered solace, kept hearts strong, Solving puzzles of sorrow's maze, Lifting burdens in a tender haze.
On call by day, by night, each hour, A steadfast presence, a calming power, Leaving meals, prayers half-said, To comfort souls in mourning's dread.
In the sanctity of shared despair, A light of hope, a breath of air, Bringing peace where pain had thrived, In the act of care, I felt alive.
For in the service of the grieving heart, A sacred duty, a hallowed art, To ease the ache, to bring relief, A balm to the endless tide of grief.
