Monday, March 9, 2009

POEM: Cemetery View

Gray day, no rain now
the blank sky is still
Wet headstones are dark and clean,
dotted amongst the shrub punctuated lawn,
rising up here and there along the rolling field
Stone after stone, different shades of gray

A man stands silently before a grave, head bowed
his dark red sweatshirt erupts against the muted green lawn
against the bleak, white-gray sky,
against the quiet sleep of death
Life is dark red
A brief pop of color

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