Masking

Deathly hollow

Graves that sleep,
They often weep.
Such silence abound,
With little around.
But the nightly stare,
What a deadly glare.
From the sunken eyes,
Of all the quiet cries.
Made of soft mist,
Clenched like a fist.
While iron aside it,
Only secrets can fit.
As death stood over,
The ground covered in clover.
His cloak made of musk,
Endless when come dusk.
Have you seen him yet,
I'd you breath, no I bet.

Comments2

  • Goldfinch60

    He is behind you!

    Andy

  • L. B. Mek

    is it ok if I found this a fun read?
    quirky, yet with purpose, an intriguing read - especially that last line..
    thanks for sharing



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