That July

That month of July 2019 we did behold;
Like a rose carried away by the north wind,
You swept away;
Like a feather of a dove carried away by the waves of life
Lost from from it's mother gone to traceless way.
There you panted for breath drawing
And drawing...
Until you went silent and on top came floating but a lifeless body.
The rose was found somewhere in the wilderness of reality,
Not dry but cold and pale,
Beautiful but lifeless
That 9th July of 2019
We gathered somewhere in the cold
To bid there farewell and sorry
To let you journey a lone.

Inside the pit u were lowered and tear drops followed
Heavily they fell from our eyes.
That day, oh my friend, that day
The ground closed and all left was
A heap of sand.