Treasure Island

K.C. Ford

(crowle)

To This


It all comes down to this,
a stone above my head
declaring birth and date of death.
It all comes down to a mound of earth
where mourners stand, but nothing said,
no thought to share or farewell kiss.
It all comes down to emptiness,
the vacant void, the nothingness.

Submitted: Friday, March 28, 2014
Edited: Friday, March 28, 2014

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Topic(s): deaths

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Although this poem reads as prose, it does have rhyme to the enquiring eye

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