The wind blows a cold breeze.
Clouds gather in the sky for a departure.
They threaten to burst open with rain any minute.
But wouldn't it be ironic for it to storm at this moment?
I look at him with eyes so sad.
I lean down and kiss his cheek and tell him I love him.
My tears stream down my face with pain in each one.
I stare at him,
Wishing he would open his eyes,
Just once.
But wouldn't that be ironic for him to do that in his condition?
Just a couple of weeks ago we were together,
Having so much fun.
But that day...
...That day destroyed him.
I wish that we could spend another day together,
Just so I can be with him one last time.
But wouldn't that be ironic for us to ever be together again?
I'll never be able to talk to him,
To hold him,
To be with him.
As I rise, I put my rose on his chest.
I whisper those words I knew he was waiting to hear again,
And I come back into focus.
The pastor was saying those words...
..."He will be missed but never forgotten."
I walked away but had to glance back at him.
That was the last time I ever got to see his face.
I sat in the car,
Crying of course,
But also thinking.
The gravediggers were walking away from their finished job.
I looked at the place where he laid,
Then I saw something very...ironic.
Rain...
That night I went to bed and I quickly drowned in my dreams.
I saw him...
In my dreams.
It's all so ironic.
But I won't be able to be with him...
At least not yet.
