Funeral on a Summer Afternoon


It’s four hours past noon;
Everything was cloaked in a transparent mantle
of the palest yellow.
Brown shrikes were chirping with glee,
Oblivious to the ant-like procession passing by.

People walked slowly as if they wore iron shoes.
The afternoon sun, like hundreds of needles, pinching their skin,
but they loved the sensation.
And they listened to the chirping of summer birds
as they continued to tread slowly;
Ever so slowly
to bury the girl — barely fifteen.

The sun was almost setting when they arrived at the graveyard;
They felt the cool breeze as they laid the girl inside the cold dark tomb —
her new and forever home.
They offered a moment of silence and gazed at the canvas above,
splattered with shades of reds, oranges, and pinks.
Guiltily, each one breathed a blissful sigh
for still having this chance to witness a splendid display of glory
before everything’s consumed by the night.

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