American sonnet

American sonnet

Today is sunny with a few decorative clouds drifting idly about the sky and the mood is of optimism
When it is overcast and dull my feet scrape the pavement An old man bent to the ground regretting past
When my mother died there was a forest of umbrellas around the hole in damp soil, the rain dripped on her coffin and a golden cross she wouldn't have liked seeing
the symbol of oppression.
The priest, a verger held his umbrella, said a few words
routine words, void of any meaning.
My near family are dead and my own demise is there
like a boulder made of years of spent years, but never mind, it doesn't matter on a sunny day.