GYWH.com

POETRY BOOK THREE: Your Writing Hand
Variations In and Out

They come to sit and watch the stones,
That lie above the buried bones;
They bring the flowers, trim the grass
And pick up broken bottle glass.

in and out

They note the people who have died
And now are laying side by side.

in and out

They’re drawn inside by others’ fates
And when they leave, they close the gates.

in and out

These mystery people that I see
And no one comes to visit me.

|| My Poetry ||