B.J. McKee (Charlotte, North Carolina)
Silver handles on a casket of steel
Reflecting sunlight...cold and unreal...
Sinking deep into hallowed ground
As the grief-stricken gather 'round.
A mothers tears hidden behind a veil
Youngsters with faces...ghostly pale,
Friends and family of a beloved gone...
A scene too frequent and painfully wrong.
Naught in time could have a greater cost
Than the life of a child to violence lost!
Comments about this poem (The Funeral by B.J. McKee )
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