Last Memorial Of A Dead Friend Poem by Alexander Foald

High in the hill on top
Sweating with your incapability
To catch the cold wind that breezes
To accept the fate that’s destined to exist

The queen calls the morning too fast
Screams of our dawn didn’t heard by the sun
And love is such a cheap material
To be bought by uncompromised heart

All the way down to the grave
Confined by the blues weighted jam
In our last memorial of a dead friend
Looking back to where he fell from,
It was a great walk he paid for granted