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."
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