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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2154603
Rated: E · 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