Bones

The little cement block beneath  
The roses, glistening pinks and whites,    
A sentimental thank you to the donors’ plate,    
Looking more like a gravestone,  
And I had to for a moment  
Work hard to remove  
Your bones from my thoughts  
Because there you were  
In your coffin  
That I try not to think about  
Too much.  
I kept walking, keep walking,  
Past the roses  
Past the gravestone  
And really should work harder  
On seeing you as a furious beam of light  
Rather than a body in a coffin  
Forever decaying a little each day  
Because the air will never  
Fully reach you  
And properly dissipate  
Into the earthy breaths that  
Created you.    
It’s a little too much  
To think about  
For a bright summer morning.