Graveyard

Passing God's acre; graves and flowers and inscriptions
"Loving fathers" and "selfless martyrs", a mile of scruples

Wrinkled as sand, she's making the gestures we learned as children
Shapes with her hand, traced through the air

Sharing a glance, she eyes me dumbly!
Does she envy my youth? I envy it too

She leaves in a hurry, as if to attend forgotten things
As if time had just now become short

Idling silvery skies, this island becomes me!
My death might be closer than thirty

by Daniel Bourke

Comments (1)

Great piece....young but unafraid....A brave person is not afraid of death...10+++