pwfm PI

THE CEMETERY
by Lucirina Telor Vevan

A wind blows softly
over the many shed tears.
The names carved in stone;
witnesses of their existence.
Simple words assign them,
equaled in the loneliness
of forgotten graves.
Their only companion
the chirps of a lost bird.




In their sadness of cold rock
the withered flowers remember
the day when they blossomed,
and with their aroma
they honored the fallen ones.
Forgotten sighs lie
on the eternal beds.
And an old lament

is the lullaby the wind sings.