Cemetery Grass
A billowing sheet of white geese
Trundle across the street
Onto grass rich and green
From winter melt
Black river rolls like a fat man
Trying to get outta the way
Stumbles and falls
On smooth gray rocks
And tumbles merrily away
Sweet scent of decay passing
Cemetery opposite the river
Headstones flowing over hills
To distant and future days
Feet ache a little on the asphalt
I'm old not dead
Walk the water down
Geese eating cemetery grass
In my wake
Probably raining in Arizona
But I'll stay here a while
Maybe go to Boston
Easy in North Country
And won't be family here
To visit soon
So, yeah, probably hit Boston
Then I don't know
Be grass to cut when I get home
Say hi to the bars for a week or two
And I'll be looking for
Somewhere to go
Something to do
Copyright © Steven Young | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment