I lay, looking upward, in a final resting place
A still, and solemn look perched upon my face
As the people who I've known and loved throughout
Fill the room, and look to me, wondering about
Who lived inside, and what was done
What works, left unfinished, were begun
My family weeps in sorrow loud,
Sweeping pity through the crowd
The preacher reads on, his body numb
His voice a low, gently buzzing hum
Now look upon me, closest ever
In beholding, I am lost forever
In death, I cannot erase how they feel
But only embrace a life most real
Have I seen the sights of golden skies
Breathed fresh air, indulged in apple pies?
Have I traveled enough to have seen the good sights?
And swam in great waters, and stood on tall heights?
Bereft of my soul, a shell of skin
Where lives will end, and some begin
Knowing the wish of all to be fine
Enjoying the glow of the life of mine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A free flight of creativity on winged imagination. A creative and compelling composition. Thanks for sharing, Branden.