WORDS OF THE LIVING

(DEEP IN THOUGHT)

The people mourn
Towards the broken stone
Remembering, when the man was first born
The sound of a family's longing moans

The stone, once smooth
Rough to the fingertips
Flowers placed, beneath its groove
Silently the scissors snip
At stems and leaves
As water drips
From the eaves

Water droplets touch the grass
The headstone, overgrown
Over time, the visits pass
Until the man is alone with the ground
In this thoughts, until he has drowned

But the man is not dead
He is just lost in thought
Not listening to what is being said
Thinking of, what he sought