Dearly Departed Poem by Hayley Pullen

A dull grey morning blanketed in a slight fog
a coldness that made the air like ice
as it entered my lungs
everything is quiet as I walk
down the narrow pathway
lined with curved stones,
engraved with forgotten souls

the whispers of the dearly departed
float through the air with the wind
they ask me questions I dare not answer
the path ends and the last stone sits silently,
withering away as the seconds pass

the whispers grow louder in my head
as I stare at the name, barely visible
on the rough dark stone
a name I shant forget for as long as I live,
a name only I remember

the whispers stop, as did the wind
the air gets thicker and colder,
my breath is strained

I see her then
standing behind the tombstone,
smiling slightly down on me
the gentle hand, I have longed for
stretches towards me

I run to take it
to feel her warmth again
as my hand comes close
to touching hers,
its gone

shes gone
I drop to the ground,
and weep for the
Dearly Departed