Lullaby To a Dead Man
Your feet are cold,
And you lay stilled
Like a stone in the snow,
Carved at winter’s bloom.
I see you
Stilled like that wood we use to sit,
Between the gates of heaven and hell,
When voices are heard and the scent
Of the harmattan fresh in the air.
I see you
Speechless in that look,
Not gaunt but gone.
In patches of pancakes on your face
Was the kindness of
The mortician Paraphrased.
I see you now,
When your worries are no more,
Your cares married to the earth.
Insipid, yet not aggrieved,
Only a darkening cadaver
Baggage of an ageing undertaker…
I see you
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
