The Funeral
By Christopher Munroe
Walks beside me.
Walks on by.
Gets me to the church on time.
Or, at least, used to.
Now I’m terrified, I’m foggy, and my trust in God and man is
strained nearly to the breaking point.
As the box is lowered into the ground, I can barely make out
the words as they’re spoken, they echo and distort somewhere between my ears
and my brain.
Gone in a moment, but never forgotten. The lessons learned
and time spent were never wasted, the memories will never be anything less than
cherished.
A modern love.
A lifetime.
Not nearly long enough.
Hey, know this one was not your usual style (and I enjoy reading / listening to all your work) but it really struck me. Enough so if I was only going to leave one comment, it would be here.
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