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
Laid 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
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