The Mausoleum

Weathered black veined granite walls Built so many years before Moss covers the slippery walls Stained black by years of endless rain Grass grows on antique slate shingles Ferns grow in nearly unseen cracks Caused by ages of neglect The name has long since faded The plate fell away and vanished If it was ever there Moonlight flickers between distant clouds Shining through broken stained glass Dancing on a mahogany coffin Every morning a red rose arrives Sitting on steps worn long before No one knows from where Who lies in this silent home? No one will tell if anyone even remembers The rose wilts into dust Carried away with the next sun Whoever lies in this eternal rest sleeps quietly Knowing that one person Unknown to the rest of the world Remembers them at least once a day And for them…that is enough.