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Tombstone
Talking to Tombstones
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She sat on the mossy cemented slab
Cracking with age and neglect
Her decaying worm-eaten bones
Lie beneath forlorn and unwanted
Her last breath has long ago mingled
In the air of the tiny earth in universe
Is this what happens at the end or worse?
Stingy flowers from a garden
Or a flower shop close by
Is this all what she deserves
After a lifetime of drudgery
Sacrificing for one and all
Aren't we all silently waiting
For the dreaded day to befall?
Would she have been more wise
Her birthday would be celebrated
Through cracks in the tombstone
Tiny wildflowers have sprouted
(This also is an effort to answer :: http://www.postpoems.org/authors/bern/prose/999195)
Beautiful poem
Mr. Bishu, it's a well penned and beautifully expressed poem. :)