The Shadow Of Death
...Tonight a mist blankets...
Veiling graves; of woman, man, and child.
The scent of decay, blood and disease.
Scurrying Rats squeak and nibble...
...Silence deafens this place...
Ominous trees intimidate the living.
This place of death, cold, and stone.
Rusted iron gates, loud and old...
...Sadness, and fear skitter within...
Old tombstones; herald the bones of long gone.
Here in lie the dead, and their forgotten names.
Crows, and Raven, forever watch this place,
Devouring the flesh that claws to the surface...
...Whispering wind, chatters to itself...
Wet ground from rain, dies to become mud.
Pale statues; sentinels for the deceased...
Snow lightly falls, covering these mausoleums,
that the dead call home.
Plagues ravage the living, feeding the yards,
that we soon go...
...'In this place the dead call home, we all hail to the Reaper song'...
Morgan Siegel's Other Poems
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