As I sit here, weak and weary, in a garden
of stones and shadows on graves whispering
to Lenore. Her final resting place beneath
the granite. Her bones crushed beneath the
weight of my sorrow and regret in eternal
silence. But confessing, allured to the dew
on the ivy.
Sad, but so touching. You have a very good grasp on how to use words.
Thank you. I like to play with words.