Fragment

The headstones go on for miles in rows and rows, names engraved, cut into cold stone, voices of those gone whisper softly, but I journey on. I seek a stone that bears my name. Statues of angels turn and weep, their tears wash me like gentle falling rain, in the distance a mound of red roses already decaying. This my resting place- I should be dwelling in peace. I lived a short life and died young, and in death I am beautiful, but I linger still. I was a poet. I seek the poems, I wrote my words in blood, in journals my many poems still exist, words written that should have been buried with me. ______________________________________ January 17, 2017 (Fragment of Her Wish Eternal) Poetry/Verse/ Fragment Copyright Protected, ID 17-1017-122-0 All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.