Ghost Words
The cold grey slabs
Lean in sorrow as I
ponder the engraving
That distant sound of memory
Therein that holds the man
Albert Browning
So young, so young,
But still he lived to have a wife
Who lies beside
Who lived beyond
Nurturing offspring in his absence
That long since life
Did he laugh in sunshine
Or cry in pain?
Did the bell toll noon
Or darkness hide his demise?
I look and wonder at this
Death and know that one day
Soon
Someone will reflect at my
epitaph
Copyright © Kaye Locke | Year Posted 2010
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