Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Cemetery Improvements.

Tumble, tumble, trees come down
Beside the graves, on and around.
The aging pines were fit no more
To grace the cemetery shore.
Undulating hills now bright
And shorn of shade and bathed in light
Are somehow bare, though marked by stones,
Are somehow bald, though filled with bones.


Nuclear Skipper said...

You have left my jimmies ruffled, my good sir. :)

W.B. Picklesworth said...

Well then, mission accomplished!