Skulking around sacred soil,
Tepid breath, rich against the earth.
My eyes sought the rare stone in the grass
That my beloved uncle hid behind.
Discomfort was my partner
As my fears giggled behind lost irises.
A horrid feeling slashed at my throat;
He was too good at this game.
Was he like that before? Or did I hardly see him to know?
Was his hair short? Were his eyes grey?
My eyes stung with a bitter lack of resolve at his victory,
The faded memories were lost behind retreating footsteps
And the endless army of marble stones.















Comments
Sorry about your uncle's gravestone.
--
Win a SIX month subscription!
--
"The pen is mightier than the sword if the sword is very short, and the pen is very sharp"
Yet I couldn't find Sawyer O____________o
--
Remember:
Amateurs ...built the ark...
Professionals ...built the Titanic...
--
Remember:
Amateurs ...built the ark...
Professionals ...built the Titanic...
I bet he won't show up again just to annoy me.... Yes, Lost is smiting me personally!
--
Win a SIX month subscription!
--
Remember:
Amateurs ...built the ark...
Professionals ...built the Titanic...
--
Win a SIX month subscription!
--
"The pen is mightier than the sword if the sword is very short, and the pen is very sharp"
Previous PageNext Page