The Gravestone Collector

A lonely house and willow sits atop a hill

And yonder the graves on a cliffside ground

In the yard they lie all howling at night

As the bounty for he who has lost them all

A family of which he must unite

To answer their yearnful and plaintive call…

 

With a toil of the stone his grave embrace 

In arms he carried it back to his home

And by the house he built he would be placed

Henceforth, walls weighed heavy with creak and moan…

…But above house and yard their howls had grown…  

 

Her grave was light with fairness in death

With her in his arms home he flew

Where she used to sing to the birds in breath

Neath the willow where all their feathers would strew        

…And thro hills and meadows the howls louder anew… 

 

The doll with marbled eyes lied bare

Her grave in his trudge bereft of flight 

While neath the willow a grave would pair

Its eyes shimmered throughout the night 

…But thro mountains and vistas rang the howling’s plight… 

 

But heaviest of all was his brother’s grave

Tugged with a rope and perched on his back 

Homeward he went but a sudden crack

Rock and earth from below would cave

He sprung away from the cliffside edge

But by the drop of the stone he sunk the ledge

The rope entangled around his neck

And as the grave plummeted to the sea below 

He was torn along to the howling’s woe…

 

In time, the house gave in to creak and moan

And in its collapse defiled the father’s stone

The willow aglow in thunderous smite

As their names were erased in the fiery light

The doll’s eyes which shimmered in the nightly dark

Were plucked by a raven in the light so stark

And The Collector’s rite, their howling screams

Had come to an end as well as his dreams…

 

17th March, 2024