Archive
11/12/08 - (1)
A Burial
It took his love almost five years to die. When his moribund spirit was pronounced defunct, He put his mourner's heart to bed,
Drew the funereal sheets above his head, And pulled the makeshift casket's blanket-lid down, Over his dead dreams.
And in burying love and its memories, His entire life history Turned to dust motes under the covers.
These days, not even shadows come to pay respects; Only silence says its condolences. His old loneliness, finding itself alone, grieves.
11/12/08 - (1)
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