Empty
I stood with you at your grave,
watching the rain erase your name from the stone.
Your damp face scanned the sky for a trace of your days
as the mournful ghosts huddled round,
sobbing into their shawls of fog. You laid
a handful of thorns on the mound where the grass grew black.
Your eyes were empty of anger. Your eyes were empty
of expectation. Your eyes were empty of fulfillment.
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Jon Corelis [log in to unmask]
www.geocities.com/joncpoetics
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