Elegy for Barry

A light shone through a workroom hidden,

as memory came, all but unbidden.

Myriad needles glinted brightly

with their task that none took lightly.

Bobbins whirled as in a dance,

as scissors lined up for a chance,

to cut the cloth in perfect line,

no schmatta here, ’twas cloth so fine.

Spools of thread had spread the word,

of Barry’s passing, and this spurred

the needles’ need to make a suit -

for Barry’s funeral, a need acute.

A wordy needle took the lead,

A tad sarcastic, they concede,

but this fine tool was Barry’s own,

and took onboard the skills he’d shown.

A suit was made, he would look grand,

its workmanship the best at hand.

A wholesale line could do so well,

but this sewn just so he’d look swell.

Our Doris sweet recalled the nights

Barry and Alana hit the heights

with her and Lenny — jokes were rife,

told all night long; that was the life!

Thus, Barry left his earthly home,

no mishegoss, he’s free to roam

to places rich with no ‘collections,’

peace will prevail, as calm reflections -

await this one we loved so dearly.

Go with our love and see so clearly.

The Lord of Hosts, Yod-Heh-Vav-Hey,

will surely guide him on his way.