Our mood affects the colour of the sky

The park sloped to a river behind trees
The other side is 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