July 20, 2008


Sudden footfalls inspire,
The cold wind to chill the bones.
Was that the sound of spirits?
Walking out of graves to roam?

Eerie silence suddenly prevails,
The rustle of the leaves echoes.
Leaving no hope for calm,
Fear in the mind it sows.

The cobwebby stones emerged,
With an elegy to sing in praise,
The long dead man rests,
Unknown of how much he is loved.

Maybe sometimes he does come out!
To see those faces stained with tears,
And weep alongside and mourn-
He for them and they for their dear.

Out ahead looms,
The graves of all ‘dead’ souls.
Dead are they really?
A sudden doubt rolls…

No comments

© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall