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Upon A Grave

Updated on May 17, 2013

A brief poem in passing...

The grave yawns in the shadows,

Bereft of teeth, it patiently awaits,

For it too must surely feed;

An open mouth gaping,

Hungry for the waste of life.

Yet tonight is unlike any other,

Freshly dug--

Lain open,

It will never be so again;

For tomorrow this hunger will be sated--

Before a round of guests

Who in parting,

Will say little,

And not look back,

Remembering even less...



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