I watched a dream die today
yet I dared not reach out
to tell the grim reaper, 'Stop'.
Silently, the funeral proceeds.
Pushed along, my body listens and trudges on.
Reality imprisons more than just limbs
as keys are thrown into the sea
and the dirt covers the blinding white
of yet another coffin lid.
One day, though old and even more grey,
I shall return to scatter flowers over each grave
and, however slowly, forge my own keys
to unlock more than just chains.