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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2154603
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Death · #2154603
When my mother passed away and her funeral soon followed I mourned the loss of her.
Dear Mother—I longed for your love:
    so when you passed away I wept;
as your spirit rose up above
    my stinging tears, which were inept,
flowed as we began to remove
    your cold, silent corpse as it slept—.

Days passed—they gathered for your wake, 
    a soothing time that was not sad
or grave as they tried for my sake
    to pay their respects and act glad:
as you laid there (to never take
    a breath again), I could’ve gone mad.

The hour arrived—the funeral
    took place on a cold, wintry morn
as if dream-like, strange and surreal.
    Distraught, I felt bereaved and torn
as your last rites and burial
    left me forlorn—oh so forlorn!
© Copyright 2018 Ngoc Nguyen--The Swarthy Bard (ngoc at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2154603