Churchyard Sunday. Poem by willow moon pearce

The churchyard gates had been opened
Hours ago.
Waiting for the carriage taking its sad burden forward,

The church service had finished its service.
With people emerging into the grey afternoon
Thinking of this sad exercise
The young confused and tearful.

Casket looking shiny, and ready
For use in a modern world
Except it to be consigned to
Muddy earth and standing water
Watched silently against the
Soft weeping of family.

Slowly, the sad burden
Is lowered with absolute silence
The sweet fragrance of flowers
Overcome with wet coats and umbrellas
Another small human tradgedy
Another lifes history ended.