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.