Molehill

Day is done, eyes close;
darkness falls, descending
over a cemetery of homes.

Flauting the eternal pitch
a grave light comes on,
kept repaired forever.

A gilded epitaph shimmers.
enshrined in perpetuity
by its impious trustor.

"My sight is gone;
but others will come
seeking illumination,
and new ager carnations."

by Patrick R. Penland

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