Anguish Most Dutiful - 'Reading At a Fueral'
The echo of the organs pipes, the absence of a breeze,
The warm and dusty air, filling lungs still mired by grief.
With a hundred looks of pity, and an air of sad unease,
I stay staring at the hull-shaped roof, breathe deep, and start to speak.
One set of dry eyes in the room; to which my sorrow does pertain,
“Too soon, too soon, too soon…” I think, but composure must be maintained
Until it can’t be any more.
Copyright © Josh Davies | Year Posted 2019
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