Poems ✍️

In the Aftermath,

There Was A Sound of Sad Peace,

A Silence of Death,

Rising o'er The Black-

O'Fields, Once Soft, Plush Meadow,

Now Square Holes dug deep.



Flowers Wilt in Mounds-

On Hills Upon Sacred Ground,

Death Lowered And Closed.



Twilight Casts Warm Light,

Umbra's on Cold Grey Arches,

And Steep White Crosses.



And, Then There's That Sound-

Breeze Coursing Through The Willows,

The Sweet Sound of Death.



FjR-MMXVII