Cold Ahead Poem by Hanan Muzafar

In Eden's grove, from fountainhead,
I drank a potion of Lord's kindness,
In many he said
'In dark you grow,
Pale shades, I gave you'
Are you the one,
who endures ever.

At midnight,
beside a cemetery,
Raven on your shoulder;
All men buried here,
with faces, still and silent,
Woes in air, and numb expression:
Their corpses have a warm smell,
Cold boots, narrow coffins,
and then a hush.

Crawling vine on stairway,
purple and dry,
with buds on every edge,
Creeping to move ahead.