Uncategorized, Writing

How long have you been sleeping now,

Wedged between two others

with your pillow made of stone?

My watch has stopped, frozen, 

Still, a statue upon the peaceful hill

where we are alone,

Aside from the silent widow 

armed with flowers, 

Drained of hope,

A necklace hanging down her breast,

A saint swinging from a rope. 

How long have I been sitting here,

Not daring to come closer

than the safety of my seat?

Perhaps I should run to you,

Kneel under these skies of blue

and whisper prayers at your feet,

Pretend that I can find my way

through the graveyard streets,

And wonder if my practiced words

could sing to you like whistling birds

and draw you from your dreams.

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