Everybody stands around me, all in black,
I find myself in a box, and can hear voices and tears flowing.
I hear soil being thrown upon me in this enclosed space.
I smell the fresh scent of crisp, red roses.
The smell of roses engulf me and as I hear the vicar's last words,
I take my final breath, and,
Fall into a deep, meaningful sleep.
Which lasts for eternity.
Author notes
This poem was written in loving memory of James Henry Flanagan, who died on 16th February 1999. Rest in peace dear Grandad.
Written November 24th 2004 - Readd.
Comments
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I'm sorry about your grandfather. Mine died not too long ago myself. I miss him, he was the only person in my family besides me who wrote poetry...anyway nice dedication
-Steve-
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