A Night

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
a small descriptive piece of a fall night in a cemetery

Submitted: October 13, 2006

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 13, 2006



Cold and frosted squares of granite

Marble crosses and sinister cherubim

Grass, not verdant, but gray and icy from beams of silvered moon.

Walking ‘cross the frozen, brittle ground,

Staring at cobwebs glittering with glassy dew, a beaded net,

A small dark point of nothing revealing where the eight-legged predator waits

Looking up, great luminous eyes peer back, reflecting my fright,

Stumbling over mounded graves,

The skeletal fingers of trees baptized by moonlight

Clasping at my sweater and catching at my hair

Fear’s pregnant weight expands, stretching,

Muscles seize as thoughts race,

Who knows what unhappy souls struggle beneath my feet,

Desperate for breath long lost.

Through the aching, moaning boughs,

I peer towards light and life,

The warm and gritty smoke from chimney top,

The welcome glow of well-lit homes.

I turn back toward that plot of silence and despair,

Fear somewhat abated,

And gaze at the crystallized slabs of graves,

Sadness resting a greater weight than any graven stone,

And extend towards those restless souls the life of sympathy,

Then steal my way to hearthside and candle-glow.

© Copyright 2020 lark. All rights reserved.

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