The pain is like a cold, sharp knife
It is twisted, stuck in my heart;
The pain is like a frozen land
The frostbite sears right through my heart;
The pain is like a gloomy void
The emptiness haunts my daily life;
The pain is worse than all of these
For he lives in the afterlife.
I stand in grass sprinkled with dew;
I stare as the casket descends;
I think of how alive he was;
And I plead time to make amends;
My infant sister knew him not;
She won’t know sadness till it mends;
Because my dear, sweet grandfather
Is now one with the growing earth.