Unspoken Detail

The priest’s words hung heavy,

a final, solemn plea.

The air was thick with grief,

and the damp smell of the sea.

We watched the box descend,

into its final bed.

And then I thought of Buster,

the dog I’d always said

I’d tell him about, the time

he dug up Mom’s prize rose.

A silly thing, a memory

that nobody else knows.

I wanted to call his name out,

a small detail, maybe,

but the earth began to fall,

and the moment passed me by.