Our Mood Affects the Colour of the Sky

The park sloped to a river behind trees The other side was a large burial ground Where my father’s body lay, bereaved In the flowered park we sat and grieved We heard the thwack of tennis balls resound The park sloped to a river behind trees Children can’t imagine mother’s pleased When her strong support lies underground As my father’s body lay, bereaved Children torment others , poisoned bees Sensing sweet fragility inside The park sloped down to hide behind tall trees Now my mother lies where I ‘ve dripped tears As if I hope a flowering shrub will shade And father’s body lies with mother’s, pleased Memories may well alter .don’t deny Our mood affects the colour of the sky The park sloped to a river. grave the trees I once hoped that my dead could be retrieved