The sun beamed through the trees that day

I stood and cried; what could I say

The dirt was damp and filled with worms

The torment inside; as I watched you squirm

I forced myself, that previous night

To pack you in; nice and tight

No time for a headstone; or marker you see

It had gone different; if it were up to me

This was your doing; your soul I couldn’t save

So now I watch over your sunny grave.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sunny/

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