On a cold steaming night
All was dark not even one light
Look down the street and you would see
Only the dust in the gutter rolling right past thee
Go to the old resting place
To remember the beautiful face
Roots twisted and rude
Cover the stone upseting there mood
They do have feelings after death
They just cant express it with no breath
Some gave that in there sleep
Making the departure soft, not steep
Some did wrong and caut by suprize
Shouting out into the skys
Some had a illness with a long delay
making there family pay and pay
Black is the color they see
Not orange or yellow.......the colors of glee
The end is neer
The skys getting clear
I need to stopping thinking about after today
I need to be with the flowers of this day
But nobody can stop me
Nor can you see
After this life people will write
About that verry same night
But i will be under the stone
The one that i own
For now im with the flowers
And somtimes the showers
But i know i will get there
Even if i dont think its fair....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fabulous job...very meaningful one and the analogy, structure is really good...Greatly Crafted