He lay forgotten amongst
The Freshly minted grass;
Frost lying deep upon
His bony heart,
Wrought thin..
They hadn't come
to wave him away,
Say a mean:
"adieu,mon ami";
For of these he'd had none-
who would mark the
Stone with One drop
Of salt..
And there he lies,to this day,
Frozen,though it be warm;
Gentle face tense,
curled ears
Strained to Hear,
A grain of wistfulness
Of some true remembrance,
From a ghost of Christmas Past..
No comments:
Post a Comment