Author Information
Moss Coverlet
The small grave now boasts
A simple coverlet of moss
The wind-worn stone bears witness
To one poor woman’s loss
And the dear beloved Samuel
Who took leave of this life,
At the tender age
In years all told,
Just eight.
A victim to the common cold,
Which wouldn’t leave his head.
Despite two passing centuries,
I don’t know how the moss can grow,
Or how the rains could wash away
The salt seas of the tears she shed,
Over Samuel,
In his limestone bed.
wow this pic something else. It spooked me when I first opened to it then read piece and saw how it related. Very evocative. Pic perfect for piece!
well crafted, beautful poem
enhanced by the pcture