Our mood affects the colour of the sky



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

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

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

Children torment others , poison bees
Sensing sweet fragility inside
The grass 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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