Cold Stone
The conversation we never finished
lies heavy on my mind,
as heavy as the cold stone
that covers the place you must sleep.
Our musings are forever now postponed.
why did the Fates not weave our love as one?
time has come and swiftly flown;
fate has cut the threads,
alabaster angels fold their wings and weep,
while stone cold marble marks eternal rest.
Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2021
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