deepundergroundpoetry.com
Grief And The Seasons
The cemetery stands silent, the flowers still, the solitary mourners perched by gravestones, alone in their grief.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter.
The seasons pass.
Each day, new mourners visit to place flowers on the graves of loved ones.
The time passes slowly at first, then quickly.
A year. Five years. Half a century. A century.
A century from now, a new generation of mourners will come.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter.
The seasons pass.
Each day, new mourners visit to place flowers on the graves of loved ones.
The time passes slowly at first, then quickly.
A year. Five years. Half a century. A century.
A century from now, a new generation of mourners will come.
Published 1st Mar 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 4
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 408
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
