Algor Mortis

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

An assignment from class. We were told to pick a season and write on imagery on that season, so I picked fall, and wrote a memento mori to my father.

Algor Mortis

A memento mori to my father, who had passed when I was five.


Large dried oaks twisting above,

leaves clinging to twisted birch-gray branches

in the graveyard we walk in.

We pass smooth, flint granite statues

and cold, silver tombstones,


Like the algor mortis of a leaf

on an oak’s stiff branch

before the colder winds of winter,

when the wine leaves crisp

and the bronze leaves fall,


I think of my father,

and the last fall we spent together.

A Halloween party kindergarten held,

I was dressed in white and silver,

a winter fairy, and I recall

one of his last gifts to me:


a small, shorthair black kitten with large,

hunter green eyes, who lasted until

Thanksgiving – my mother hates cats.

Father lasted the winter, seeing my fifth birthday,

soon passing after the beginnings of spring.


While I am now twenty-one;

I have grown without him,

a sting of unease still

resonates every fall and spring,

as I visit this wake.


Chrysanthemums and lilies are

near the grave, however

I place a crimson rose on the simple

grave: a memento mori.

Submitted: February 05, 2021

© Copyright 2021 SeaChell13. All rights reserved.

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