Treba Sue McCutcheon Poems

At twelve o'clock in the mist of the chilling night,
While gently the wind blows the leaves off the trees and out of sight;
Silence falls across the darkness of the land,
And every living creature hides behind the trees and in the sand.
...

Come all ye lovers and gaze upon my grave.
Weep ye hearts desire, see if ye can raise the dead?
For my spirit continually walks among the tombs,
And weeps all the night long.
...