The Final Journey

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

I was inspired to write this poem after attending a funeral. The dark and bleak day adding to the sadness. Funerals are never happy events, of course, but some affect you more than others. The
realisation that sometime in the near or distant future, we too, will walk the well-trodden path.

Submitted: November 26, 2017

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Submitted: November 26, 2017




A pall drifts steadily across a sullen sky, as sunshine bows and takes it’s leave.

And Gold and yellow teardrops tumble dolefully, from the stark and naked trees.

Divested and denuded branches, look on, and bend their heads in reverence.

While shuffling, mournful pilgrims follow suit, in sombre melancholy deference

Sadness falls across a waiting throng, infecting sorrow strips happiness from all around.

As eyes turn left and meet the black and stately ship, which glides towards its final resting ground.

Enormity of loss in splendid oak, through solemn glass, bedecked in floral solitude.

Draws painfully to passage end, a citadel where many mass, a fortress of the blackest mood.

And memories lofted high, on mighty shoulders of the few, march forward on,

Sheep-like kin and friends before, are sucked through doors towards the gone.

As death walks tall amongst the living, and follows us all, from birth to wake

Realisation dawns across assembled crowd, a journey that we all must make.



© Copyright 2018 john regan. All rights reserved.

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