Authored: November 22, 2020

A veil of dust obscures the moonlit surrounds
All is quiet, even the wind is tame tonight
The lone figure at the cemetery, sits next to a grave
A forlorn figure, his back hunched
As if weighed down by imaginary stones on his back
His hands on his face, he sobs
Everything ends below the sky and above the oceans
The moonlight baths a sombre lullaby
If one could see the ghosts that rise each night
And fade with the morning Sun.

Frailty took her from him and this late-night loneliness
Likens to the remaining hours of his own mortality
The man slumps over, a heart attack of loneliness
Under moonlight that he sees one last time
It covets him and allows him to slip away
This life closes and something else opens
No more late-night loneliness.

One more ghost rises that night
To fade with the morning Sun....