Funerals have always bothered me

We celebrate the life

And mourn the loss

Perhaps the shadow I saw

Was doing a bit of both

For the graveyard was old

Older it seemed than the country that it was in

And yet the ghost of a person

Lingered in it still

The ghost of that of a young man

Still dressed in his Sunday best

With words I tried to communicate 

Sound was lost to him

With gestures I tried again

He looked beyond me and himself

The horizon seemed to be what he long for

I tried many different ways to garner his attention 

Ever I was ignored

The churchyard is where I left him

And every time I go back

I still see him 

He stands in the same place

Ever looking for the horizon.