One summer afternoon, when I was a child, I saw a bird fly into the window of our storeroom. The crash did him in, poor thing, and I was left wondering what to do with a dead bird. I decided it was the perfect time for a funeral. The first thing I did was dig a hole out back by the wood shed, then I found an old toothpaste box for his coffin, and a piece of white cloth to wrap him in. I told my sister Hilda and a few other kids about the funeral, and, because I was the oldest, I was to be the minister. I went into the house and found a big black scarf, and put it around my shoulders, then I got a piece of white cardboard for a collar and my prayer brook. By the time I returned to the grave sight, Hilda and her friends were there. I started by reading a few prayers from the book, then we sang “Abide With Me.” (That was an honorable hymn, because I remember singing that at my mom’s aunt’s funeral the week before.) The next part of the service was sad, because that was when we put the toothpaste box, with the little bird in it, down in the ground. When I started covering it with dirt, I said, in my best Preacher’s voice: “Ashes to ashes, Dust to dust. He’s now gone to Heaven, to wait for us” That was when, I looked at my friends, and said, “OK, now, we're all going to cry really loud.” I told them we had to cry, because that’s what you’re suppose to do at funerals. So we tried to cry a little louder! We might have been crying, but no tears were flowing. After the funeral was over, and my friends had gone home, I made a head stone for his grave and on it I wrote:
Here lies a bird
Who hit his head
On the window
And fell down dead   Submitted By: NULL