So sad the faithful mongrel
searching as he is led,
knowing someone is missing,
the old man is dead.
So still the cemetery
on a misty November morn,
silent the sky,
grey clouds hang forlorn.
So gullible the flock
herded by the bell,
do they really believe
in heaven? or hell?
So what the prayer
that echoed so cold,
reverberating fear
for those in the fold.
So peculiar this existence,
that passes as life,
condolences offered;
" now he's with his wife".
So hopelessly understated,
so little do we know,
the distant fleeting dream
that is never quite so.
Capability Red 2012
