Friday

poem

I wish I could sleep at the foot of your graveyard

       Cemetery grass

       And authentic memories

   Of the past-

                 While the Moon 

                 hangs low we dance

                 In the light

I wish I could dream at your funeral

 

Flowers to smell

  Bringing people together

Wearing  a watch

       For he said,

 “call any time past noon”


No comments:

Post a Comment