Procession moves on
the shouting is over
Praise to the glory
of loved ones
now gone
Talking aloud
as they sit
round their tables
Scattering flowers
washed down by the rain
Stood by the gate
at the foot
of the garden
Watching them pass
like clouds in the sky
Try to cry out
in the heat
of the moment
Possessed by a fury
that burns from inside
Cry like a child
though these years
make me older
With children my time
is so wastefully spent
Burden to keep
though their
inner communion
Accept like a curse
an unlucky deal
Played by the gate
at the foot
of the garden
My view stretches out
from the fence
to the wall
No words could explain
no actions determine
Just watching the trees
and the leaves
as they fall