Boneyard
BONEYARD
A mist of your scent.
An image of you.
Alone in the boneyard your sleep is forever more.
In the air is the fresh scent of dozens of roses, all to you I give.
My back against the cold headstone, a couple of words to say along.
Along the way a feeling of missing you, impossible to bring you back to the place you once knew.
To the world of your folks you will be deeply missed.
Flowers we gave.
Alone in the boneyard I sit with my back against the stone.
A chill brushed by me on a sunny day.
An image that stood five feet away.
A circle of madness covered your face.
Before you died were you in peace?
I walk the boneyard.
My love goes out to you.
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