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Memory in Solace
There is a grave with no name
That stands lonelier still.
It has no flowers nor despairing mourners
And the grass grows thick and bushy,
For this grave is left to rot.
Abandoned is this grave—
No one knows if a funeral was ever held.
The vicar says he knows all faces,
Yet this one, he cannot place.
Ostracised even by the other dead,
This grave stands alone.
Who could tell who was laid here to rest?
Not you, nor I,
Though I knew him once.
He was a good man. But, now, he rots.
Copyright ©
Amelie Ison
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