The Funeral

The bells toll,

The drums roll.

The people walk

in slow long

lines,

covered in black.

The bells toll,

the drums roll.

The carriage

proceeds to the

gates;

the mourners wait.

The bells toll,

the drums roll.

The grave is

open and waiting,

lonely

and so cold.

The bells toll,

the drums roll.

Author's Note

any thoughts?