Навеяло.......
All day people walked here. They were fussing, crying, talking about something. Someone whispered, some loudly, some silent, some indecipherable singing. And only one part and one event united them all - the death of a loved one. They were all dressed in black ...
Mirrors were hung ... They kept the secret - the mystery of death, it was impossible to show it ... Table was laid on him alcoholic beverages, funeral rice with raisins and much more ...
And people all came ... with a huge bouquet of red carnations ... They were at the grave. Among the flowers were artificial wreaths, but the most beautiful flower was artificial rose.
Much time has passed since then, but coming on the grave under the birch tree, I see this rose. It is not burnt, not crumbling, but remains as fresh as the memory of the dear man ....