Grave Tidings

 Grave Tidings

As expressive as the grave
and as stoic as a tomb,
eye sockets deep as a cave
cadaverous, gaunt and spare
seeking someone I assume
as he silently stands there.

Once in his youth he had smiled.
Once in his life he had joy,
but then he had been a child.
Life then he could understand
when he was only a boy
his world was held in his hand.

His clothing, dark and threadbare
his hat is tattered and worn.
A face mapped with lines of care,
he kneels at the black head stone
it is the right time to mourn.
Now he’s totally alone.

Alone, a terrible word.
Barren, abandoned, bereft
drawn to the place she’s stored.
Now that the life’s time is spent.
Tears for the ones who are left
when life has folded its tent.