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The Funeral
heads bowed
huddled together
the only sound
is a sad,
crooning bagpipe
atop a mountain
the wind whispers
through the trees
making them bend
and sway
the wind comforts me,
it remind me of you
a gentle hand on my cheek,
but it slowly fades
as i see you sink
into the strong earth
i accept the rose
they give
after it rested atop your bed
i take a walk to clear my head
nothing but memories
and a dirt road
i walk back to town
your home, your air, almost tangible
and i can only thank God
you are safer than me.
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