i never wished to bury you
not even as i sang your funeral hymn
it became all too apparent
that you needed out of your misery
though i questioned my judgment
as dirt filled your throat.
still do—your ghost provides comfort
on days i am lost and the grace
of your soft touch still lingers
this mound of dirt i have dug;
your voice fills these death chambers—
a reminder of things once
© Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.
Poetry served to you raw and unedited from the moment crafted;
all poetry is older work and chosen at random unless otherwise noted.
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