It's Still Life

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