Destination
The bony finger beckons,
The skeleton’s white hands
Invites us all. The skull-pale pall
Of marble juts and stands
Monumental, in the grave-thick lands.
Oblivion’s sweet country
Is glowing moonlit-bright,
The markers loom. Each urn-capped tomb
Is skeletally stark tonight.
Hasten toward the tempting, funereal light…
Copyright © Steve Eng | Year Posted 2009
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