Young Writers Society

The Funeral
A road,
Leads to a dead forest,
But its also leads to sorrow,
Where a funeral,
Carries itself slowly away,
The adults,
Shocked into horror,
The children crying,
In pitiful pain,
A single child,
A single girl,
Stands in front of the open casket,
Holding an aged hand,
Her mothers hand,
Her mother,
Who was taken from her by sickness,
Sorrow,
Pain,
Disblief,
And shock,
Race their course around the girls head,
You,
Gone,
Where?
Why?
No!
How?
The words in her head where spaced,
Like she had just ran a marathon,
And her tongue could not say a full sentence,
Panic exploded in her,
Grief and sorrow,
Making her shoulders sag,
As if the sky,
Was pressing down onto her,
Forcing her to her knees,
She rocks herself,
Back and forth,
Forth and back,
Singing quietly,
Dont leave me behind,
For i cant reach this place you have gone to,
Come back to me,
I cannot lose you,
Not yet,
Her voice falters,
Her father,
Joined her on the ground next to the casket,
Singing the song,
Gently but sadly,
Longingly,
The mothers family sink to their knees,
And began to sing next to the casket,
The spirit of the mother,
Turned around to look upon her family,
Smiled softly,
And waved Goodbye,
Before climbing the steps to the Afterlife.