When my mother passed away and her funeral soon followed I mourned the loss of her.
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!