This Plain Grey Life
We watched, prayed time’s chants,
as the crimson leaves blew into
his eternal six foot deep.
I was wrapped in mourning clothes,
comforted by a plain grey life,
held my sorrow within my sorrows,
within my creased and carded fleece,
within my heart’s brow.
A palmed rose tumbled on to his coffin,
his memory kept with the skulls of saints.
Note: Before people start sending condolences, this piece is in response to a prompt – completely fictitious. © Misky 2020. For dVerse, using five phrases borrowed from “The Pale Impromptu” by Samual Greenberg. Image from Flickr Creative Commons. CC:00
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