A Man Called Leo
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I tread between green mounds of decay,
surrounded by rows of engraved stone.
Lost in thought, I lose track of the day,
for I've seldom felt so all alone.
Where death lingers between monoliths,
an air of somber clings to the shade.
But despite supernatural myths,
I begin to wander unafraid.
A dying sun bleeds on every grave,
resurrecting memories of old.
And reading words the living engrave,
I seek warmth within a love gone cold.
My sad heart disputes the pains of youth,
still in denial despite years of ache.
And eager to disregard the truth,
tears dissipate like drops in a lake.
I crouch low before the place I seek,
here lies a military hero.
And a single tear runs down my cheek,
for my father, a man called Leo.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2017
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