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2 votes, average: 2.50 out of 52 votes, average: 2.50 out of 52 votes, average: 2.50 out of 52 votes, average: 2.50 out of 52 votes, average: 2.50 out of 5
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He was nice; funny
always laughed
and made me laugh.
Sitting on my knees
before his tomb
I wished I could see through
that stone and cement
and watch him
laughing again.
No…
dead men won’t laugh
nor weep.
I tried to weep…
no, I couldn’t.
I remained silent
for a while,
placed the roses I brought
tenderly on his tomb
and got up to go.
After crossing the gate
of that graveyard
suddenly
I started laughing aloud,
laughing, laughing
aloud, aloud,
my heart out.

3 Comments

  1. Vishvnand says:

    A Lovely poem of deep sensitive feelings,
    So laughing out your grief from inside out
    may be a remedy not to easily discount

    Hearty commends for the poem …!

  2. kusum says:

    Very touching poem. But I could not follow the significance of the last lines – laughing – why?
    Vishvnandaji has explained it somewhat. May be he is right.
    Kusum

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