Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR
Souls In Sleep...
Souls in sleep, beneath morning's dew,
felt the breeze of death through the willows,
smelt the fetor of flowers wilting
all over each other, on freshly dug sod,
too soft to take knee and whisper
unspoken words...now lost to regret.
Shadows eclipse this yard of stone,
sunfall breaks through naked branch,