Memorials
My father's bone is in his grave
My mother's bone the same
But your bones battered by the wave
Are found in children's game
They collect them for their colors
The nearest thing to pearl
A child may own; time murmurs
Against our sandy world
Mollusk shrines and cockle shells
It's all your kingdom leaves
And evening with purples spells
O heart that ever grieves.
The year is run, many gone
I shall not see again
Still will come a new dawn
Till then I keep my pain.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
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