A Forgotten Funeral (a sestina)

Image of a casket imprinted in my mind. I used to own one. I was certain.

I tread along a winding mountain path;

Trees’ shadows bend over mine, on the dark

Pavement, I see a silhouette of an opened casket.

Inbreathe a lungful of sombre air, my nose

Wrinkles at the malodour of a ghost.

Why. She ought to follow me everywhere.

I walk back to my town in the middle of nowhere.

As I amble down a narrow pebble path,

Right from top of a tree a white ghost

Falls on my face and everything goes dark.

Sinister prank. Between the twisted branches on my nose,

Snicker strays. That is the sound of a rickety casket.

Back to the market, my gaze is captured by some tiny caskets.

Wan daylight, stares are directed at me from somewhere.

Stepping on a muddy puddle, a dog comes and noses

My foot" Argh, shoo! Now I wish I’m on a towpath,

So I can escape to waterway disappear into the dark.

Doggy barks fiercely at me, for I must have smelled ghostly.

The townsfolk pale at the sight of me, whilst I ghost

Off hurriedly, thought hovers over those pretty caskets.

I come home to see grandma glaring at a woman darkly.

An idea strikes me: Now I must leave for elsewhere,

Before I’m forced to walk down a disastrous path,

For I fear her whose Cobaea perfume hurts my nose.

Too late. The woman spots me, and points at my nose:

‘You look like your late mother!’ She gasps, as if she sees a ghost;

Her tongue portrays an image of a bloodstained mountain path,

Whilst my mind is occupied by silhouette of a not-so-tiny casket…

Now I remember. I used to see one, till they hid it somewhere.

Clouds gathered on grandma’s forehead, grim and dark.

The woman leaves" leaving a trail of footsteps darkened

By her taunt. My dear grandma grumbles, nose

Reddened. And then I recall being hauled away from where

My gaunt mother lay in. Her white gown emitted a ghostly

Glow. The lid was sealed; some men walked off with her casket

Whilst my father slumped into a sob on a rocky footpath.

She was gone with the dark, since then we never cross path.

Before that I’d nosed her arm as she slept in a gaping casket.

I did not shed a tear, for people could see her ghost anywhere.

Author's Note

It is up to your interpretation.