Burial
Smothering gaze staring back from the stars
late in the night, long after the sun sunk into the seas,
woke me in its dreams;
on a dewy meadow,
near a mourning crowd
on a Sunday morning,
on this forgotten battlefield,
flowers feeding on the blood
of the hundreds,
who died over empty prides,
As the dirt now covering me,
I gaze smotheringly one last time,
into the loving eyes that came to bury me.
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