Destitute in my thoughts, <br />I found myself removed that day. <br /> <br />There he was, <br />lying cold <br />And just ten. <br /> <br />A bloody shame. <br /> <br />It’s hard to quite grasp <br />the feeling first <br />encountered <br />upon the image of a corpse. <br />Shock, fear, <br />and a deep sadness: <br /> <br />the inevitable frailty of life. <br /> <br />A “corpse” I thought. <br />This little man <br />Once a name, <br />Now as ice and plastic, <br /> <br />what have you become? <br /> <br /> <br />I remember how he used to make me smile, <br />And the way he would tease his dog “Abby”. <br />They say animals recognize the soul, <br />His was a gentle one… <br /> <br />Just a child, <br />unaware of the pain the world can bring. <br />He was too young to know fear, <br />And her touch had not yet corrupted him. <br /> <br />A bloody shame. <br /> <br />Amongst the crowd were mourners, <br />Little children and adults. <br />They had come to see their friend, <br />But children should never know this pain. <br /> <br />They brought toys, flowers <br />and the hope of the <br />lives they would lead. <br />Tiny hands, and tiny feet, <br />while <br />his remained cold. <br /> <br />In and out they paid their respects, <br />“oh it’s a shame” and <br />“he was so young”. <br />And then back to life. <br /> <br />My uncle stood alone. <br /> <br />Your pain will never be removed, <br />And for that I'm sorry, <br /> <br />A bloody shame. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Copyright (c) David DeSantis<br /><br />David DeSantis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-funeral-2/
