Shifting my weight onto the old bridge.
Listening to it's ragged cries of protest.
The mist rising from it's slumber, casts an ominous attitude.
As I walk by, the trees extend their bony fingers.
They snatch at my hair as I pass them by.
I near my destination.
A tribe of tombstones stand before me.
I soon find the one I have searched for.
Kneeling down, I place a rose by the lonely head stone.
I turn my back and walk away.
The headstone and rose drifts into the night.
Swallowed by the starving darkness.
(For Dorothy, Wanda, and Elwood)