Our mood affects the colour of the sky

The park sloped  to a river  behind  trees
 The other side was a large burial ground
Where my father’s body lay, bereaved

In the flowered park we sat and grieved
We heard the thwack of   tennis balls resound
The park sloped  to a river  behind trees

Children can’t imagine mother’s pleased
When her  strong support lies underground
As my father’s body lay, bereaved

Children  torment others , poisoned bees
Sensing sweet fragility inside
The park sloped   down to hide  behind  tall trees

 Now my mother lies where I ‘ve  dripped tears
As if I hope a flowering shrub   will shade
And father’s body lies with mother’s, pleased

Memories may well alter .don’t deny
Our mood affects the colour of the sky
The park sloped  to a river. grave the trees
I once hoped that  my dead could be retrieved

 

I welcome comments and criticism

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