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
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment