A Graveyard Visitor Poem by Juan Olivarez

In the early morning hours, in the silence of the night,
To the shadows softly clinging, staying always out of sight.
A figure dressed from head to toe, in the darkest stygian black,
Heads towards a lonely grave, undeterred upon his track.

Once above the funeral plot, in respect he bows his head,
And pays homage to his master, who lives here among the dead.
Mumbling some archaic words, he lays three roses on his stone,
And some ancient French Cognac, for disintegrating bones.

With a final bow he turns, and walks silently away,
Staying far from prying eyes, fleeing from the coming day.
He makes his way across the graves, till he's finally out of sight,
Flying away without a sound, like a Raven in the night.


(8/28/11-Alton Texas)