The pain is like a cold, sharp knife

It is twisted, stuck in my heart;

The pain is like a frozen land

The frostbite sears right through my heart;

The pain is like a gloomy void

The emptiness haunts my daily life;

The pain is worse than all of these

For he lives in the afterlife.

I stand in grass sprinkled with dew;

I stare as the casket descends;

I think of how alive he was;

And I plead time to make amends;

My infant sister knew him not;

She won’t know sadness till it mends;

Because my dear, sweet grandfather

Is now one with the growing earth.