Funeral for a friend

I can smell it
The morning dew among the midnight lilacs
The presence of death on the dawn of a Sunday
Pervading everywhere

I can hear it
The church bells toll on this dim day
The wind ceases to blow
And the roosters are silent
Hushing everything

I can see it
The blinding tears within the crowds
The clouds that embrace
And the roses that swoon
Bleed red upon the tomb