My Mothers Undertaker

The hole- so wide and lonely, Is so unjustifiably small, I imagine her decay slowly... The crowd weeps at the door, But I must not cry- I am the undertaker. The service- monotone, The crowds grieving groans, The shovel makes my hands ache, But my heart must not break- For I am the undertaker. The rain falls, And living is a chore, Meaningless words emerge, As unknown faces converge, The many condolences I take, And the consolidation I must fake- Because I am the undertaker. The coffin is lowered, Dull Petals drifting … But I must not lose my gripping- I am the undertaker. The clouds are gray, The grass yellow, My mask cannot stay, And my tears are mellow, Because I am the undertaker- My mothers undertaker.