He hummed melancholy notes
leaning upon a saintly marble
over his daddy's grave,
looking about indistinctly
and forlorn,
along with unripe thoughts
envisioning the tombs
as a deceased infantry.
When the burden of darkness
came crawling upon
shoulders of white gravestones,
ugly shadows of the resurrected
troops moaned
"We didn't go anywhere.
We slept under
dry leaves of elapsed memories,
taking note of the peaceful
birds, insects
and people
stopping by occasionally
leaving a few floral wreathes".
He found himself scurrying
through a symmetry of gravestones
with its never-ending corridors
adding on row after row.
Corpses of dead leaves
rustled and
danced with an eerie wind,
calling upon
all the swaying willows.
Together, they joined the chorus
"We are here.
We need not go anywhere..."
Finally
it took a falling dead branch
to stir him
up, from his mid-day dream.
