A Garden of Stones
My garden of stones
Under the blanket of darkness,
I've come to visit once again
The air feels denser.
A mist builds near
The angels still singing but -
The devil watches over here
Piercing through the silence is
The screech of a cat.
The animals of the dark gather around my lonely garden ,they rest with ease.
Each a messenger of the soul waiting to be beckoned by its master.
Copyright © Anthony Bookram | Year Posted 2020
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