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A Poetic Account of a Tragic Death

Asleep I lay, in the park, dreaming of life’s subtle pleasures. On this shaded wooden bench, I began to think of that man and the whiteness in his fingers and in his face. I remembered then, his hard-crusted lips and a single white dove that had landed on his shoulder, but for a moment. As the dove flew off again, it seemed as though it was carrying something not visible to man. The bird enticed me as it danced off above the whispering leaves upon the trees. It danced and danced, away to the pearly blue sky; as if it were guiding, a lost soul to heaven.

I imagined that one must possess a noble and loving heart to have a soul so blessed. I witnessed, within my mind, the dove above the clouds; leading the soul to a golden chariot with the most wonderful steeds. Then, as they trample off towards the glimmering gates, the chariot’s wheels whirl round. On this journey, a soul will witness the vastest mountains and greatest trees though it will only ever feel a light breeze. The old gazing soul throws up his hands and for the first time in a long while, it feels youth begin to bloom. He was once but a man; though now his wings allow him to fly, still he may cry. So, if one day you visit my dad; tell him, no longer to be sad.