Funeral Lights

A tree is falling,

Slowly, roots tearing away at life.

The aged bark grunts as if in submission,

Nearly a century spent under shower and sun.

Dismantled, bloodied, she lies in wait,

Her lofty shadow attempting a fading escapade.

The wind sweeps away her last echoes of rustling as if in farewell,

And a long forgotten name falls from her lips.

Her lovers lean in to touch her ebbing light,

Her leaves weep for you the tears you cannot shed. 

Even the sun dips his face behind the horizon.

You remember the funeral, you know you are drowning too.

Alone she makes her journey forth, towards darkness,

Clinging, against confusion, to pictures of youth and life.

Stars, and wind, and the music of rain,

And you are caught in the corridor of sorrows left behind.

Ashamed to go home now,

You fall at her feet just like the rest of her sighing lovers. 

Here lies a grave of dreams imploring the world to remember,

And you, an unworthy witness to this story.

The city lights come on as if to blind one, 

Dotted windows of mocking cheer, 

Piercing honks and passing cars, rattling your insides.

The world is incapable of mourning.