Everlasting Love

Her coffin slowly drops into the ground, the little group of mourners huddles there, all standing pokerfaced, without a sound, the vicar speaks his lines without a care... I watch and gulp the frosty morning air. Although I hadn't been there when she died, my heart is breaking, overflowing grief; it's been so many years now since she'd lied - and yes, although our love had been so brief, our feelings never died (that's my belief). And as the rest depart, I stand alone to wonder if she somehow knows I'm here. My ear detects a sudden muffled moan - has she been buried still alive? I fear, or is she telling me: 'I know you're near'? written 22nd July for Constance's Q contest - Death