Whom do we bury?
Under these daisy scattered fields,
A friend, a loved one, an acquaintance so slim.
What do we bury?
Under these raven scattered skies,
A smile, a birthday party, a look so grim.
Why do we bury?
Under these grief scattered feelings,
A doubt, an innocent secret, a lost tearful sin.
When do we bury?
Under these fear scattered lives,
A dream, a longing for love, a hope so dim.
© David R. Durham, All Rights Reserved.
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