Stopping by a Cemetery on a Rainy Sunday

While stoping by a cemetery on a rainy Sunday,

I stopped to pray.

The clouds are crowding my thoughts again.

I get lost along the way.

Through the graves and flowers wilted,

The rain, the smell, the people mourning.

Death is painful,

Letting loved ones go.

What you forgot to say.

It could happen any day.

I know why these people cry,

Why these flowers withered and wilted.

Why it’s so hard.

All those things you forgot to say.