Trees tremble over the fence as the wind embraces them,
Dead leaves flow through and over grave stones.
The peace is but silence, almost depressive.
Alone and wondering into the night sky, looking around at death, where they lie.
Tears and agony, pain and suffering is what this place brings to meaning.
People lay lifeless into the night where serenity is a Burdon.
Smell of fresh rain tapering on my jacket,
The flowers that people lay to rest, the scent of the moment.
The wind gushes past my face and brings with it a shiver through my bones.
I feel a boost of panic a million miles through my head.
At breaking point lightning struck and rain fell intense and harsh.
A car leaves a staggered shock in my breath.
November dismissing another heart broken, another family deprived of a father.
The cries and regrets, the day that passed and words I read,
The story he told, the cry he struck,
All the pain he had.
The guitar he played and the songs he sang,
Another lost voice in my head, no one would hear.
Bitter sweet taste,
Cynical and deserted
My Tears and rain, Sorrow and cold
Picking up the flower, rearranging the angel, replacing the candle and placing a picked white fence.
I feel a touch of grief on my shoulders, of depression in my mind.
Wiping the grass of my knees, intending on walking away,
Wishing you were here to help me.
My hands are cold and so are you,
I’m shaking and the tears of loss aren’t helping.
The rains picking up rustling the grass and spatting the footpath I walk along, walking away.
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