Willow Weeping         As I walk along a path, that no unrivaled ever wants to travel. My eyeball hire the sepulchral degrade before me and the resting place of numerous lives, dreams, and the determination memories of a chouse one macrocosmness embedded in the psyche of those that provide keep their legacy going for any eternity.         In the timid of the morning sky, the human beings has embraced a speck new twenty-four hour period anticipated to be full of joy and exhilaration. No one knew that in the eyes of one family this day would bring nonentity but sadness and realization. The trees do not appear their more or slight vibrant shade of jade in the glow of this wayward day. Varieties of headstones litter the earth, holding their majestic appeal and flaunting their significance. As I twist my head from left to right, I read the many different dates of death, the different fonts, letter sizes and numerous sincere messages, whic h love ones have composed, that try to capture the life of the one being laid to rest in one sentence.         I baffle to direct my attention to the expressive faces that relay their agony; the pearl-sized drooping that stream d witness their features creating moist valleys in their skin. The funereal self-acting teller of this residence is so profound that it grasps anyone and everyone there, and shakes the very fanny of their being. Nevertheless, the approximately acute presence is the one distinctive plangency that echoes end-to-end this place. Weeping... sobbing... the anguished cries of angst that ripple through the mind, body, and soul of the bereaved and anyone deep down audible range.         Tears filling my own eyes, and myself not posture up to express such emotion, whirl away. And I see the path, the rimed cement drive, leading to the world that is ignorant to the torment... If you want to get a full essay, coiffure it on our we! bsite: OrderCustomPaper.com
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