A Jewel's Passing

So no more shall his traitors hate; For death's veils have made it late To slight any soul time has called To dine and wine in the city of gold. And his tombstone does eerily stand Above the grass on the watered land; Where passers-by might donate a tear To lament the passing of a jewel dear. And wayfaring aliens of kindlier blood May cast a tearful eye above the mud, To read that fading nineteen-thirty-nine; His twain names inked in italicized line. And perhaps see therebelow two-zero-zero-nine, Saddest hour the grape was thieved from the vine; And maybe briefly stand still and belatedly mourn, And sadly concede all must die that erst was born. His only friends - merry butterflies during the day, And the crickets who with mournful chirping pray; Shall some keen vigil keep over his placid bones, Throughout his rest beneath those tireless stones. Copyright © Hannington Mumo | Year Posted 2021.