Grieve not, my graveyard

Were I to stretch my feet on floor, The walls would lead me to the door. If I walk tall, a bit unbent, If not the roof my head would dent. If only should I sleep all crawled— As per the training I had ere In my mother’s womb when I dwelled, That training all the fruits now bear. Yet, grieve not O my burial ground, All crawled I’ll lie in a small grave, Precious space of graveyard to save, Descends when that death-seeking hound. If need be, at the time when dead, I can sleep yogi-like seated. __________________________________ Sonnet |03.10.2023| grave, house