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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1022175
The certainty of death, in poetic form.
The Cemetery

by

E C Wesch


A somber moon shines tonight,
On polished chiseled stones.
Rats scurry in the shadows,
Where flesh has turned to bones.

Candles at the grave sites,
Leaves strewn above the ground,
Scattered like broken promises,
Where life's no longer bound.

Lonely lives have ended here,
No grieving for the poor.
Striving to climb the rainbows,
And walk through Heaven's door.

Webs spun like cotton candy,
Drape stones in pale moonlight,
That filters through the tree tops,
And fades by dawn's first light.

Our beginnings are uncertain,
But our endings are for sure.
Sleeping 'neath the gravestone,
Is meant forevermore.


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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1022175-The-Cemetery