Mourning.

In the middle of a grey fog-heavy lawn she stood all alone, tipped her head back to let out a moan and walls caught the wail, transferred her mourning to a raw sky as she shouted again for answers to WHY did he have to die. His ship was only carrying supplies to war-weary sailors. She impaled the same pain of the many who had questioned before over graveyard railings, her cry rent the air in uncontrolled grief It passed thru' bare trees and slick as oiled rope uncoiling, bedded silently into the sea, revealing wet Death wears casual smiles when hearing sunk grief. Wartime agony came close to destroying those who were left behind. 46646