Six Feet Under

They placed you six feet deep, under a mound of sacred earth. One final sleep that we may weep, and remember all your worth. That little garden you had grown, I kept the lettuce leafy green. Winds have blown on their own, on those grassy hills unseen. The swing set you painted blue, where you swung me as a child. I had to undo every last screw, it reminded me of how you smiled. And on sunny days I stay indoors, away from those tormenting skies. I go through drawers that were yours, until a memory or two would arise. I checked your mail one last time, and a brown letter caught my eye. It read "In time bells would chime, and I would not have to say goodbye."