Dear papa

• Claudia Daly, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2006

The wind riled angrily through the creaking bodies of black,
Howling and writhing like ones stomach-
The eeriness of a cemetry unsettles one on a night like this.

The twisted daffodils fall to the harsh cold cement;
which my dear papa nows rests beneath.
"Daffodils" I think, "papa's favourite flower."

Everything seemed to stop when I heard the news.
The whole world seemed to have been hit by a pause button;
-and had fallen on my shoulders.

The memory flashes past my eyes and I cringe.
I collapse onto the gravestone and silently wallow in my own depression,
waiting to be swallowed up by the icy fingers of the night.