Funeral March

A picture on a stand facing out, featuring a young boy's smiling face. People all dressed in black, hiding their eyes behind tissues. And here I stand, on the other side of the window, peering in. My heart hurts, but not the same way theirs does, the sky sheds my tears for the young boy, for the people shuffling around the room. That boy might have worn the smile that brightened their day, the one they looked to for happiness and love. But in my mind he is just another face I will never greet, just another soul I will never meet. And so I stand here, staring into the window at the scene that shouldn't be.