29 May


Once she stood at this ancient cemetery 

and watched the mist crumble away like broken down plaster

tawny lichen creeping through cracks in antique gravestones

honeysuckle scrambling over stone walls

in moments of madness she sees

ladies in tasseled dresses and gentlemen in fine hats

the spirits of mourners trapped here in the chill of a summer evening

in her more lucid moments she understood

that there is nothing as diverse as death




Comments

  1. Roslyn Ross3 June 2016 at 03:19

    Now that is clever. Well done.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous3 June 2016 at 17:37

    I like the way you turn mourners into the spirits inhabiting the graveyard, and diversity applied to death.

    ReplyDelete

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