The wind wisps pasts the graveyard stones
and sweeps along the long dead bones
of stately men and paupers poor
whose souls cryout forever more….
whose souls cryout forever more….
Like leaves now parched, blown away,
that once blushed in a younger day
when they were lush and clung to trees,
gently bobbing on the breeze.
The wind wisps past the crumbly stone,
whisking away the dusty bones,
and forevermore time echoes on…
forevermore time echoes on…
time echoes on…
on….
–bkhemphill
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