HER LAST RESTING PLACE
The croak of a rook
from beyond the brook
as the sun breaks through
turning hoar frost to dew.
In weak morning rays
an old mattock lays
by the newly dug space
her last resting place.
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Author:
Michael Edwards (
Offline) - Published: June 8th, 2022 00:45
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 41
Offline)
Comments5
Fine words Michael (had to look up the word mattock, never heard this before).
Wonderful artwork.
Thanks Andy - it's not a word much encountered these days although we often mistakenly call them pickaxes.
Good write and pic M.
Miss Berles got a mattock?
No but she does have a pair of wire cutters - any use to you?
Yep, they'll do, if no mattock available.
A few perfectly set lines of quiet scene to touch readers' hearts Mike and the wonderful watercolour adds even more poignancy.
Thank you Fay for your kind words.
Upon a churchyard green
My surname was seen
upon a weathered old stone
with its R.I.P. tome
A forebear unmet
from a 19th century set
a farmer dad said
finally sown in deathsbed
where'ere i roam
whatever i bring to lifes fest
I'll arrive here in peace
at last finding rest
Your writing always inspires me M.E. You have a unique quality with word as well as those brushes.
Ah dusk - some response and a great read. Keep writing.
Lovely images - hoar frost to dew in the context of old age to death (a kind of renewal??). And lovely unforced rhymes.
Thanks so much for your kind words.
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