Partitions and Parallels
Silent, sliding, shadow-moon sly
Glides from the slit, in a
Crow-flocked, Cloud-frocked,
Winter-mocked blue sky.
With half-open eyes, he stares at the last
Who lay their still-sleep of Three Hundred Years Past.
Below lies Thomas, old grounds-man head
With permission he rests amongst the high Lordly-dead.
Beside him, his daughter, Sarah, aged five,
Whispers message of doom, to those yet alive.
More...
Continue reading...