The Final Red Rose

June 5, 2009
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The cold rain washes away my sorrow filled tears.
The way you use to wash away my fears.
I stare down at the casket in the pouring rain.
Just by thinking of your memory I am in pain.
My sister hugs me and then rushes away.
Its not like there was anything that she could say.
I need to go, but can't find the strength to leave.
I can barely even stand as I grieve.
Our daughter rushes up to me and tugs on my skirt.
'Mommy. Its raining.' I don't listen, All I know is hurt.
I don't know what I'll do now that your gone.
Perhaps something better will come, with tomorrows dawn.
The funeral director looks at me and says I need to go.
I shake my head. 'I can't leave him. Not yet. No.'
It could have been minutes, it could have been hours.
All I do is stare down, cursing the divine powers.
They give up waiting on me, and lower you to your grave.
I fall to the ground. I can't believe your too late to save.
I regain my composure, dropping the final red rose.
I feel that I've lost everything, but I guess thats how life goes.

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