I do not know you honestly.
I fail to recognize the face, all blanched,
amidst the wails and His hails.
Those closed eyelids, never to be opened again.
And so the coffin lowered into the dirt
all in a haze.
It shook me; the pallbearers
walking, mum.
Nothing to be said.
Anymore.
The pale lips, synchronizing with
the silent cemetery
told me, she belonged there now.
Beneath the shady tree,
with a cross over her,
to suit her newly acquired identity.
YOU ARE READING
SYMPHONY OF WORDS
PoetryHighest rank #40 These words are a part of me, my emotions. They take root from my innermost intuitions. Every poem is different and conveys the tune of my heart. This is my first shot at writing and I hope you find it worth your time spent. Pleas...
