A Man Called Leo
I tread between green mounds of decay,
seeking a particular headstone.
Lost in thought, I lose track of the day,
for I've seldom felt so all alone.
Where the dead rest under monoliths,
a feeling of fear clings to the shade.
But despite supernatural myths,
I begin to wander unafraid.
A dying sun highlights every grave:
gilding inscribed epitaphs of old.
And reading words the grieving engrave:
I seek warmth within a love gone cold.
My heart disputes the pains of my youth,
still in denial, despite years of ache.
And failing to disregard the truth,
tears dissipate like drops in a lake.
I stand still before the place I seek:
where lies a military hero.
And a single tear runs down my cheek
for my father, a man called Leo.
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