The funeral procession drove past my house <br />I bowed my head and I was quite as a mouse, <br />In a solemn prayer I gave to the sadly departed <br />As I knew of the sadness and remorse of the fainthearted; <br />One car after another I watched go down the street <br />As I still stood there in respect in this unbearable heat, <br />The cars that I counted they were over twenty-five <br />Sadly not one visited the departed when he was still alive; <br />So, there goes his procession heading to the graveyard <br />As though being led by weepers and the national guard, <br />I guess when he was living his life he was always misread <br />Now he is missed and remembered since now he is dead. <br /> <br />Randy L. McClave<br /><br />Randy McClave<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-funeral-procession-2/
