When I come to pass
I will not leave my voice
What will remain are my words
Etched in lines
That have gone unread
Taken for granted
Until the moss feathers across
The ivy veins layered
In thick vines
Over my last words
Written in granite
© 2008 Miss Blue
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Requiem
I won’t shed a tear
On this third year
The shovel in hand
Where the dirt met the land
In plain pine
Boxed in for all of time
Peering in over the open space
“How did they get such a big man in such a small box?”
© 2008 Miss Blue
On this third year
The shovel in hand
Where the dirt met the land
In plain pine
Boxed in for all of time
Peering in over the open space
“How did they get such a big man in such a small box?”
© 2008 Miss Blue
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