These flowers will not replace my friend.
Their beauty will soon go the way of life-
Fade and wither and then take flight.
Piled upon this mound of dirt to mark our sorrow,
Offered as a sacrifice to soothe our souls.
Petal nor thorn could save this rose.
Like flowers cut down in height of beauty,
This face that bloomed and wore big smiles,
Is covered here to rest awhile.
Then beyond the markers numbered many,
Placed in rows to make order of death,
I saw something that took my breath.
Flowers...colorful flowers...that filled
The field yet fallow...waiting for the day
When friends and family gather...and pray.