Anna Hopper Poet Rhyme

Graveyard Stroll

A stretch of land, where bodies rest
A gentleman pays his respects
With a heavy heart and much to confess
A golden pin upon his breast

The wicked winter is fading, fast
The blanket of snow, now a sheet of slush
He loses his breath from a chill of the past
A  thick and heavy hush

He cups his hands atop his mouth
Thawing them with his breath
He hears desperate cries out loud
But surrounds him, is only death

He has so many stories to tell
And knows more than he should
But until he joins them all, in Hell
He'll speak of only good

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John Lawless December 30, 2017 at 9:56 PM that last stanza belies the fact that "dead men tell no tales"...An interesting shift at the end....nicely done Anna

Gregory Richard Barden December 25, 2017 at 4:59 PM This is exquisite, Anna, and touches on many levels ... my first true love (in prep school) showed me what a peaceful refuge a graveyard can, as she would often do homework there or read, and I picked the habit up as well. Over the years I have seen many such fascinating moments - moments that made my mind spin, trying to guess the stories behind what I observed - but only recently started writing about them. This is a beautiful, with superb phrasing and rhyme ... thank you for sharing.