Death In The Cemetery
Contributed by
Traceyhays
on
Wednesday, 6th February 2008 @ 04:02:21 PM in AEST
Topic:
abstract
|
Once upon a Sunday morning.
In a misty drizzle the rain was pouring,
And the sun not soaring.
As I journeyed down by a stream,
It felt as though I were in a dream.
And many hours I did wander,
Until I saw a road up yonder.
And on this road trees did not grow,
But an eerie wind did somberly blow.
Slowly I started down that path,
Beated and battered by the cold winds wrath.
In the distance I heard hallowed laughter,
But I heard only the wind shortly after.
As the day grew late, I came upon a gate,
Slowly it creaked open, very near broken.
I took a look around, there lies a potters ground.
I dared not enter, but quickly to stray,
Then I saw a man old and gray.
Haggard and weary with a pale skin tone,
His arms wrapped around a small headstone.
Quietly and sadly he began to moan.
I said unto him "Friend, chap, why do you cry,
Hath someone so dear to the die?"
He said unto me in a voice so feeble,
"No, it is I, that soon will die,
For death come a calling, here he will find me crawling,
And this is my grave which I have paved."
Then like a bog,
There came such a fog.
My heart suddenly jolted,
The old man revolted.
Out of a black light,
I saw such a sight.
Death had appeared,
And began to snear.
Deaths somber skin tone,
Chilled me to the bone.
In spide of his fright,
The old man took flight.
With all dismay he did not get away,
Death drew his life,
Like fire from a candle light.
A pale expression glued to his face,
I ran quickly and made haste.
Then there came laughter, I ran only faster.
I dared not look back, for fear I did not lack.
Nor did I speak that next morning,
For Death came as a warning.
That of any day, when the sky is gray,
And of any hour of any place,
I may see Deaths cold face.
Copyright ©
Traceyhays
... [
2008-02-06 16:02:21] (Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|