There were lots of croaky throats this morning, perhaps not from the beer;
Possibly they'd realised that a certain day was near,
Maybe they realised all that they'd lost, and what was yet to come -
That they'd have to say goodbye because an angel had moved on.
Soon enough would be a day of dark colours, an awful formal day,
Some would return, some would leave and few would choose to stay;
Names and faces thrown around, some all too familiar,
Family and friends all coming to say goodbye to her.
Less than a week and she'll be underground, quite a sober thought;
I hope she gained a lot of happiness, for all of it she brought.
Too often now I say goodbye to faces ever so dear,
It's not fair, I know it's selfish, but I want them all to stay here.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
