The Funeral.

It started with the arrival of the men in suits.
They were big and burly,
At least it seemed to me at the time,
For I was only five,
And clinging fiercely to my mother’s side.

Their shirts were white, their ties coal black.
Looking back,
I would say their demeanour was somber,
Respectful,
As it should be when you lay a fellow miner in the grave.

I didn’t know what death was then.
Why didn’t the earth stop?
How could life continue?
I cried to myself in amazement.
But the coffin came out through the window,
Into the hearse, and away down the road it went.

And somehow, life continued as it had before.