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Loss

A solemn procession of black umbrellas
Bobs down the gently sloping hill.
Smooth, rounded stones jut from the ground
Like a mouth of broken teeth.
Thick grey clouds swirl overhead,
Swallowing up the sunlight.
I kneel in the freshly dug earth,
A long-stemmed crimson rose clasped in my hand.
Once vibrant and full of life,
Its velvet petals now hang shriveled and brown.
My other hand strokes the soft dirt below,
Mixing pebbles and grass through my fingers.
Cool drops start to trickle from above,
Dotting the surface of my ebony dress
And combining with the salty rivers
Coursing down my cheeks.
Rising, I lay the rose before
The newly carved stone,
(BELOVED MOTHER)
One beautiful, lifeless flower
In memory of another.

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Comments

  • It has a surprising ending. I like the image of gravestones like broken teeth.

    You need something to pause between so many vivid images, or you need a more controlled direction. Maybe just drop ll.5-6, the umbrellas already let us know it was raining. "Bobs" in l.2 jars the tone, though it is true to the image, maybe a verb emphasizing that the procession is leaving, and that you're coming in after they have gone.
    Or a line to clarify, "Now alone, to say goodbye"

    You might also space into stanzas to help the reading. ll.15-16 "salty rivers/coursing" for a stranger is a little too much.