At Your Grave
Silence: All I hear when I call out your name.
Snow envelops me and snuffs out my flame.
Gone is the light with which your name can be read,
I think I hear you, but it's all in my head.
I'm deep in the woods where no songs can be heard.
I am the only one here, and I speak but four words.
Copyright © Danny Stinson | Year Posted 2011
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